0 -^ '"^ 



I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.! 

f — — # 

I UNITED STATES OF A3IEUICA. * 



DISCOURSES 

OF 

REV. EDWARD H. EDES, 



WITH 



A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE. 




BOSTON: 
BENJAMIN H. GREENE, 

121 Washington Street. 

1846. 



.E-4-1I15 




NOTE. 



The present publication has been undertaken by a few- 
friends of the lamented author, in the hope that they would 
prove an acceptable offering to those who enjoyed many 
years of his ministry, and to whom he was endeared by 
many private virtues. The volume is well calculated to 
interest all hearts, and to aid and instruct serious inquirers 
after duty and God. 

With, a fervent desire that it may not fail of its intended 
object, it is now sent forth to the public. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Memoir 1 

SERMON 1. 

Spiritual Insensibility 57 

SERMON II. 

Religious Obligation 73 

SERMON III. 
The Kingdom of God 88 

SERMON IV. 
True Life 102 

SERMON V. 

Autumn Lessons 115 

SERMON VI. 
Slavery 129 

SERMON VII. 
Unitarianism the Religion of the Gospel . . 147 



SERMON VIII. 
Greater Works than Miracles .... 173 

SERMON IX. 
The Rest of Faith 189 

SERMON X. 

Human Nature ....... 205 

SERMON XI. 
Spirit of Christ 223 

SERMON XII. 
Not this Man, but Barabbas .... 235 

SERMON XIII. 
Thanksgiving 249 

SERMON XIV. 
God is Love . 267 



MEMOIR. 



MEMOIR. 



Rev. Edward Henry Edes was born in Bos- 
ton, Massachusetts, June 12, 1803. His grand- 
parents were Edward and Elizabeth Edes, who 
Uved at the corner of Salem and Bennett Streets, 
on the site where the Rev. Dr. Beecher's church 
now stands. Mr. Edes was extensively engaged 
in the business of baking ship-bread, and, at 
one time, was worth a considerable amount of 
property. He enjoyed the reputation of an es- 
timable and worthy man, a good citizen, a faith- 
ful and affectionate husband and father, and 
a kind and benevolent neighbour and kinsman. 
His eldest son, Edward, the father of the sub- 
ject of this memoir, received, in part at least, a 
collegiate education. He commenced and con- 
tinued the mercantile business on Long Wharf, 
until the death of his father in 1803. Then a 
younger brother, brought up to the ship-baking 
business with the father, induced him to become 
1 



2 / MEMOIR. 

his partner. He therefore gave up his store, and 
removed into the old family mansion. This 
change of pursuit was of no benefit to his purse, 
while it was injurious to his health. He died 
of consumption in January, 1811, in the thirty- 
eighth year of his age. He was a man of de- 
cided literary tastes, of very good natural pow- 
ers, a great reader, and an easy, pleasant writer, 
and, while he lived, took much pains with the 
early training of his son. The mother of the 
subject of this memoir was Mary Gardner, 
daughter of Samuel Gardner, Esq., justice of 
the peace in Boston, and granddaughter of 
Judge Gardner. She was thought, in her day 
and among her circle of friends, a woman of ex- 
cellent good sense, of attractive manners, and 
remarkably happy in epistolary composition. 
She was a woman of a deep religious spirit, 
strongly attached to the forms of worship and 
the articles of belief of the Episcopal service, 
and a devoted member of Christ Church, Bos- 
ton, for many years. By her husband's death, 
she was left a widow with two children, a son 
between seven and eight years of age, and a 
daughter five years older, with but little, if any, 
property. It became necessary, therefore, for 
pecuniary reasons, to give up the family man- 
sion. Mrs. Edes went with her daughter into 



MEMOIR. 



3 



the family of her father, and Edward into the 
family of an imcle Gardner, who promised to 
act the part of a parent towards him. It was 
his mother's wish that he should be educated for 
the ministry, particularly for that of the Epis- 
copal Church, to which she was herself so strong- 
ly attached. By his uncle he was placed in the 
family of the Rev. Dr. Sanger, of Bridgewater, as 
a boarder, and at the Academy in that town as 
a pupil, then under the charge of Mr. Zede- 
kiah Sanger, Jr. Rev. Dr. Sanger, in a letter 
to his mother, speaks of Edward's deportment 
in his family as having been so good as to gain 
his high esteem. And Mr. Zedekiah Sanger, Jr. 
speaks of him as having evinced, by his proficien- 
cy during nearly two years he had been under his 
instruction, that " he possessed superior talents." 
While on a visit in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, 
Edward's mother became acquainted with the 
provision which had been made for the educa- 
tion of indigent young men of promising talents 
at Phillips Exeter Academy, and of the proba- 
bility of securing a place there for her son. 
With all the ardor of a mother's love, she at 
once set about securing him a situation there, 
and soon succeeded to her entire satisfaction. 
A friend near his own age, who was schoolmate 
with Edward while at Exeter, speaks as follows 



4 



MEMOIR. 



of his reminiscences of what he was at that 
time. 

" I remember him at that period as a quiet, 
unassuming playfellow and classmate, hav- 
ing no enemies, and a few strongly attached 
friends. With one boy from the South he was 
so intimate, that the stories of Pylades and Ores- 
tes and of Damon and Pythias seemed to us 
boys only the common results of friendship. 
This trait in his character marked his course 
through life. He ever preferred the approbation 
and regard of a few, to the noisy admiration of 
the crowd. While at Exeter, he maintained a re- 
spectable rank as a student, and, as far as I know, 
was free from any of those offences against 
good morals, which may be expected some- 
times to occur among young persons between 
the ages of eleven and fourteen, left for many 
hours of every day to the guidance of their own 
wills, far away from the restraining influences of 
home and kindred. I do not remember to have 
heard a profane or indelicate expression from 
the lips of Edward Edes. Although among 
the younger members of the Academy at that 
time, the use of such expressions was not 
unknown. He was always a welcome com- 
panion in the Academy yard, whether we were 
engaged in settling the rival claims of the candy- 



MEMOIR. 5 

merchants, in playing at marbles, in kicking 
football, or in rolling balls of snow together for 
a fort. He was a member of the Phillips Bines, 
the military company which your brother Ber- 
nard organized for the amusement and improve- 
ment of the smaller boys, and one year figured, 
I think, in that redoubtable corps of wooden 
guns and blue jackets as sergeant." 

Another, who was a schoolmate of young 
Edes at Exeter, gives the following as his recol- 
lections of him at that time. 

" I first saw Edes at Exeter Academy. We 
boarded at the same house. My acquaintance 
with hmi there ripened into an attachment that 
was never broken while he lived. We were not 
connected in our studies, and I am unable to say 
what was his rank as a scholar. I think his 
preparation for the exercises of the school was 
made with regularity and diligence. He was 
very young (having entered the Academy at 
twelve and left at fifteen years of age), and 
his admission with his classmates to the Uni- 
versity is an evidence that he had well im- 
proved his time and advantages during the usual 
period of preparatory study. There was about 
him then, as in after life, an appearance of 
feebleness, which could not long resist the pow- 
er of disease and decay. He was modest and 



6 



MEMOIR. 



retiring ; often wearing a thoughtful and pensive 
brow, gentle in aspect, and full of affection and 
kindness. He was the son of a widowed moth- 
er, and the recollection of this circumstance 
exerted a favorable influence in the formation 
of his character. He was accustomed to con- 
template seriously his situation in life, and the 
claims he would have to meet when his aca- 
demic education should be finished. It was de- 
sired, on the part of his mother, I think, that 
he should become a minister in the Episcopal 
Church, and he kept this desire of his parent 
constantly in view. He discovered a great ten- 
derness of conscience and purity of heart, and 
maintained a strict regard for truth and integrity. 
He was particularly fond of reading books of a 
serious and devotional character. I remember 
that your brother Bernard made him a particu- 
lar object of his kindness and care ; and this he 
did, probably, not more on account of his feeble- 
ness and youth, than because of his amiable 
disposition. Indeed, the whole deportment and 
character of Edes while at school did not fail 
to leave favorable impressions upon the minds 
of all his associates." 

That a lad of Edes's tender age, amid all the 
merriment and playfulness of a large number near- 
ly his own age, at a public school, and away from 



MEMOIR. 



7 



parental inspection, should have kept alive seri- 
ous views of his own future responsibilities, and 
of his parent's wishes in regard to his pursuits in 
life, and should be fond of reading serious and 
devotional books, may seem somewhat uncom- 
mon. But it is easily accounted for, from the fact 
that his intercourse with his mother had probably 
made a deep impression upon him before he left 
her, and that in his absence he was continually 
receiving letters from her adapted to keep alive 
and strengthen those impressions. His mother, 
it has been already stated, was not only a wo- 
man of a strong mind, of refined manners, and 
of good education, but also a woman of remark- 
able facility in epistolary composition. The 
writer well remembers having heard his brother 
Bernard say, that he never read better letters 
than those received by Edward Edes from his 
mother while at Exeter Academy, and which, 
in his intimacy with Edward, he was permitted 
to see. When it is borne in mind, that Edward 
was a lad of a very tender heart and a very 
affectionate disposition, that he left home under 
deep impressions already received from maternal 
influence, and that his mother, a woman of 
superior mind, a pure Christian, and an ardent 
Episcopalian, extremely anxious that he should 
become an Episcopal minister, was often writing 



8 



MEMOIR. 



to him ia a manner adapted to touch the heart 
and impress the mind, his appearance of serious 
thoughtfulness is just the appearance which we 
should suppose he would exhibit. 

In 1818, Edes left Exeter, and entered Harvard 
University. Mrs. Edes had exerted herself to 
the utmost to accomplish the desires of her 
heart in regard to her son. She had been left, 
it is true, at the death of her husband, with but 
little if any property. But being a lady, as has 
already been intimated, of good education, of a 
well cultivated mind, of refined manners, and of 
a religious spirit, she obtained a school for 
young ladies, which enabled her to support her 
family, and, with the assistance of kind friends, 
to maintain her son in college. But in 1819 she 
suddenly died, and Edward's means of assist- 
ance through her efforts were cut off. It was 
the opinion of the government of the Univer- 
sity, that he was better fitted for an active than 
for a sedentary life ; and he himself appeared to 
have no choice, abiding altogether by the judg- 
ment of his friends. He therefore left college 
after about twoyears' connection with the insti- 
tution. The remaining years of his minority 
he spent as a clerk in a dry goods store. He 
then commenced business in that part of Tewks- 
bury which is now incorporated with the city 



MEMOIR. 



9 



of Lowell. Here he failed. Afterwards he com- 
menced business again in Newburyport, where 
he was also unsuccessful. His early impres- 
sions, his subsequent education, and his literary 
tastes and religious sensibilities, all united in 
bringing him to the determination to prepare 
himself for the ministry. This he was enabled 
to do by the charity of the Theological School 
in Cambridge, and by the assistance of friends. 

The writer of this sketch was associated for 
a time with Mr. Edes as a classmate in the 
Theological School at Cambridge, and retains 
vivid recollections of him as he then appeared. 
In the school, Mr. Edes was quiet, modest, and 
unassuming, diligent and faithful in investiga- 
tion, cautious in drawing his inferences and es- 
tablishing his conclusions, firm and decided in 
his opinions. In our conversations or discus- 
sions upon theological or other subjects he was, 
more often than otherwise, a silent but atten- 
tive listener, not putting his views forward with 
boldness and confidence. And yet he was ready 
to make an open avowal of his opinions upon 
all appropriate occasions. And whenever he did 
so, he showed, at once, that, if he did not talk 
much, he thought carefully ; that if he was not 
forward to engage in controversy, he had his 
own opinions deliberately formed, and with well 



10 



MEMOIR. 



weighed reasons and arguments in their support. 
At that time he wrote slowly and with some 
difficulty, but with great care. He often la- 
mented the interruption he had experienced in 
his studies, on this account more than on al- 
most any other, as interfering with that facility 
in composition which he might have otherwise 
enjoyed. It is true, the results of his efforts in 
this respect, when brought before the professors 
or the school, did him great credit, and showed 
no traces of the deficiency of which he himself 
complained. And his exercises gave evidence 
of diligence in investigation, of clear thought 
and sound judgment in conclusions, and of elab- 
orate carefulness in composition. His disposi- 
tion, manners, and habits while in the school 
were such as to secure the respect and the es- 
teem of all. There was not, indeed, at that time, 
nor ever after, any thing in his appearance, char- 
acter, or productions strikingly brilliant or orig- 
inal. He was regarded not as a man of great 
genius, but as a man of a right spirit, and of a 
sound mind. Nor did he covet the distinction 
of novelty or brilliancy, — he sought only for 
the true and the useful. 

Mr. Edes graduated at the Theological School 
in Cambridge, in July, 1831. He went soon 
after to Eastport, to supply the vacant pulpit of 



MEMOIR. 



11 



the Unitarian society in that place. He gave 
satisfaction, was invited to become the pastor of 
that society, and accepted the invitation. He 
returned to Massachusetts, was married in New- 
buryport to Miss Lois P. Stone of that place, 
returned to Eastport, and was ordained on the 
15th of November, 1831. The people there, feel- 
ing deeply their isolated condition, were ready to 
welcome, with the warmest affection, the pastor 
of their choice, who would take up his abode 
with them. They were fully aware of the diffi- 
culties with which a pastor must contend in so 
isolated a position, and so far away from the 
counsel and advice, the sympathy and assistance, 
of his brethren in the ministry. With a consid- 
erate regard for the health and strength of their 
pastor, they stated distinctly to him, in their in- 
vitation, their willingness that he should read 
printed sermons one half the time, as an 
equivalent for those ministerial exchanges from 
which he cut himself off by taking up his 
abode in a place so far removed from any soci- 
eties or ministering brethren of the Unitarian 
faith. Mr. Edes remained in Eastport until 
June, 1836. The following testimonials from 
different sources will give some idea of the 
course he pursued, the character he maintained, 
and the influence he exerted while there. A 



12 



MEMOIR. 



correspondent from Eastport thus speaks of 
him. 

Mr. Edes took an active part in whatever 
tended to impart or to increase the influence of 
truth, to give more extensive and worthy views 
of Christianity, and to cause men, being less big- 
oted and more charitable, to live more in the 
position of brethren. It was at his instigation, 
and through his influence, that regular meetings 
of the church were held, at the houses of differ- 
ent members, on the last Sunday evening of 
every month. These meetings have been, and 
are still, productive of much good, making the 
members acquainted with each other, and tend- 
ing to make them feel a deeper interest in each 
other's spiritual welfare. Through his influence, 
a Parish Library was established, and also a 
Young Ladies' Circle for mutual improvement. 
The preaching of Mr. Edes was much liked, 
and was doubtless productive of much good fruit. 
In his out-door intercourse with men, he was 
rather reserved. His character was of that kind 
that, when it was once learned, every serious- 
minded person would invariably become attach- 
ed to him. And so, too, on his part, he felt a 
strong and peculiar interest in those to whom he 
held social and spiritual relations. Accordingly, 
these feelings existing, those connected with him 



MEMOIR. 



13 



readily and thankfully received his counsel and 
instruction in what appertained to their spirit- 
ual welfare. Wednesday evening meetings had 
been a long time established in the society at 
Eastport. Mr. Edes took a warm interest in 
them, and in the Sunday School, and gave them 
both a new start." 

His successor in the ministry at Eastport 
speaks thus of him. The proofs (at the time I 
went to Eastport) were numerous that he possess- 
ed a strong religious influence over some of the 
best minds in that society. I never saw strong- 
er indications of attachment and respect than 
were manifested towards him by some of the 
people. I always heard his pulpit performances 
spoken of in commendatory terms. They were 
said to be distinguished for a pure and accurate 
style of composition, good, clear sense, and a 
strong religious feeling." 

A brother clergyman, for a time pastor of the 
Unitarian society at Calais, about thirty miles 
from Eastport, speaks as follows of his acquaint- 
ance with Mr. Edes, and of his knowledge of 
his labors while in Eastport. " It was after a 
journey of two days from Bangor, through the 
charred forests of Maine, on a bleak Saturday 
night in November, 1832, that I crossed the fer- 
ry at Lubeck, and landed at Eastport. There I 



14 



MEMOIR. 



found my old schoolfellow surrounded by as 
many comforts as are usually allotted to a cler- 
gyman, — an intelligent and affectionate people, 
a devoted wife, a good library, and a home late- 
ly enlightened by the smile of his first-born. 
The remoteness of the situation from churches 
of the Unitarian faith seemed more than com- 
pensated by the zealous cooperation of the mem- 
bers of the parish, — a parish long noted for its 
just appreciation of a clergyman's labors. As an 
instance of this which deserves to be recorded, 
and which may be measured in dollars and cents, 
it may be mentioned, that, on the second year of 
his settlement there, a considerable sum above 
his salary was subscribed and paid to Mr. Edes, 
to relieve him of debt contracted before his resi- 
dence at Eastport. During the three years that 
Mr. Edes and myself were the only Unitarian 
clergymen within a hundred miles, his amiable 
and manly deportment, his enlightened views on 
disputed topics, his hearty efforts to do good, 
won the respect and esteem of his parishioners. 
As might be expected of one in his situation, 
he spent more time with his books than with 
his people. He was more earnest to mature 
plans already adopted, than to be continually 
forming new ones. He was dispassionate in his 
judgment, calm in his piety, and delighted in 



MEMOIR. 



15 



established notions which had the test of experi- 
ence, rather than in those which were commend- 
ed by the charm of novelty. Under his ministry 
the parish flourished, the church was enlarged 
by more than thirty additions, and it was with 
deep regret that his parish heard that he thought 
it his duty to leave them." 

Another friend of Mr. Edes, and a parishioner 
while he was at Eastport, writes as follows con- 
cerning him : — " When Mr. Edes entered upon 
the duties of the ministerial office at Eastport, 
he felt and expressed his fears that he should be 
inadequate to the task assigned him. His re- 
moteness from his brethren of the same faith 
left him without those sympathies and words 
of encouragement to which in his preparatory 
course he had been accustomed. And this cir- 
cumstance led him, perhaps, to form closer and 
inore intimate relations with the people of his 
society, by all of whom he was received and 
treated with great kindness and personal regard. 
And it is seldom that a minister of religion has 
exercised a more salutary influence upon his 
people than did Mr. Edes. He was devoted to 
their moral and religious improvement. His 
calling, his people, these were the all-absorbing 
themes, and he was in season and out of season 
in promoting their spiritual welfare and happi- 



16 



MEMOIR. 



ness. Mr. Edes was married about the time of 
his ordination, and he was early subjected to se- 
vere domestic bereavements in the loss of child- 
ren. In these trials he was sustained by the 
religion he professed, and by his example taught 
his people the duty of resignation and submis- 
sion to the divine will. 

During the various scenes through which we 
passed together, the prominent trait of Mr. Edes's 
character was equanimity. His character was 
well balanced. Always calm and self-possessed, 
he was able to meet the occasions which pre- 
sented themselves, in public and in private, and 
he lived in a part of the country where he was 
often called upon to give a reason for the faith 
that was in him. His conversational powers 
were not remarkable, yet he was affable, and 
eminently social in his feelings. He formed 
many enduring friendships, and many persons 
who resided temporarily at Eastport during his 
residence there have not ceased to express their 
gratitude to him for his influence on them and 
their families. It was there, too, that Unitarian 
views of Christianity were brought to their 
knowledge for the first time ; and the plain- 
ness, simplicity, and power of Mr. Edes's exposi- 
tions of Scripture, which he was accustomed to 
give at his Wednesday evening meetings, re- 



MEMOIR. 



17 



kindled in many the religious estimate of their 
own natures, which other views had nearly ex- 
tinguished. In his public exercises, Mr. Edes 
was earnest, serious, and impressive. His voice 
was naturally feeble, but his enunciation was 
clear and distinct. His manner was unpretend- 
ing, but he always secured the attention of his 
hearers. His estimate of moral excellence was 
very exalted. Truth, duty, and goodness were 
constant subjects of his teaching, in the pulpit 
and out of it ; but he could let no man shelter 
himself under the forms of either. It was the 
heart he wished to make right ; a good life 
guided by religious principle was what he meant 
by morality. 

In his intercourse with persons of a diiferent 
faith, Mr. Edes treated their opinions with re- 
spect, yielding to them what he claimed for him- 
self, the right of private judgment. He won, 
by his sincerity and amiable manner, the respect 
of those who could not yield their assent to his 
religious opinions. In fine, his life at Eastport 
was one of great labor and corresponding re- 
sults. He did much to give tone to the religious 
l#entiments of the community in which he lived, 
and few men have left impressions more deep, 
salutary, and lasting than did Mr. Edes upon 
those among whom he lived, and to whom he 
2 



18 



MEMOIR. 



ministered in sacred things. But his domestic 
afflictions, in the loss of children, the arduous 
duties of the desk, and those he owed to his 
society, united with an uncongenial climate, un- 
dermined his naturally feeble health, and he was 
compelled to resign his charge." 

In 1836, Mr. Edes removed from Eastport 
to Augusta, Maine, and took charge of the Uni- 
tariaji society in that place. The day for his 
installation was appointed, and all the arrange- 
ments for the occasion were niade. But the in- 
clemency of the weather prevented most of the 
clergymen, who were to officiate on the oc- 
casion, from reaching Augusta, and he was nev- 
er regularly installed as pastor of that parish. 
He continued to minister to them for two or 
three years. In regard to his labors there, one 
of his parishioners writes thus: — "During the 
period that Mr. Edes ministered in the sacred 
office of pastor in Augusta, his services were 
highly acceptable to his parishioners, and attend- 
ed with a good degree of success. Yet he was 
often grieved that the fruits of his labors were 
not more abundant. His sermons were always 
chaste, generally of a practical character, an^ 
characterized by a good degree of religious fer- 
vor. He was ever faithful in warning his hear- 
ers against the consequences of sin, and in lay- 



MEMOIR. 



19 



ing before them proper incentives to a holy life. 
As a pastor and teacher, so far as my knowledge 
extends, he was much beloved. He left the 
society, at his own request, in the hope of being 
more useful elsewhere, and in the full enjoy- 
ment of the confidence and highest regards of 
all who were his constant attendants." 

Another of his parishioners at that time speaks 
thus of him, while at Augusta : — Such was his 
quiet and peaceful walk, and his life so changeless, 
that to have seen him once was to have known 
him. During his ministry at Augusta, there was 
a uniform and natural temperament in his dis- 
courses, which might be always anticipated with- 
out a chance of disappointment. We never feared 
from him any rash or impetuous propositions, nor 
looked for any fall. His language was always 
good, sometimes admirable, and, if his sermons 
showed less variety, they certainly never wearied 
by flashes and dashes, and vain strivings for what 
he could not reach. His manner was calm and 
strictly devotional, and his idea was never ob- 
scure. The late Chief-Justice Mellen used to 
say, that ' he was a fine sermonizer.' 

" He was a man of trials, and tried beyond most 
men in the loss of children, and by the changes 
of the world, yet he hardly murmured, though 
he felt keenly. He was with our parish during 



20 



MEMOIR. 



their pecuniary distresses, and his readiness to 
yield up every thing he could to their conven- 
ience was fully manifested. Mr. Edes was a 
good neigbour and faithful pastor. His health 
was much of the time poor, and he was often 
obliged to yield to its imperative injunction not 
to preach." 

From Augusta, Mr. Edes removed to Kenne- 
bunk, and took charge of the Unitarian society 
in that place, which had been left vacant by the 
removal, on account of ill health, of the late 
lamented Wells. With this people he remained 
until cut off by the prostrating power of disease 
and removed by death. 

The following testimonials may give an idea 
of the impressions made upon different minds by 
his character and labors while at Kennebunk. 
The first is from a brother clergyman, a native 
of Kennebunk, and who there became acqutiint- 
ed with Mr. Edes, before entering upon the la- 
bors of the ministry. He says : — "I first knew 
brother Edes when preaching as a candidate at 
Kennebunk. I received a favorable impression 
of him at once, — and it seemed to be general. 
That is, he was not one of those whom you 
are undecided about, and form an opinion of 
slowly, but one who strikes you at once favora- 
bly. I was possessed with a good opinion both 



MEMOIR. 



21 



of his mind and of his heart at first, which a 
better acquaintance did not change, but con- 
firmed and strengthened. And, if I mistake not, 
such was generally the case. Some, I know, 
were so impressed, and spoke of it at the time, 
and none, that 1 remember, formed any decidedly 
unfavorable opinion, though some were not so 
distinctly and deeply impressed as others. It 
may be difficult, perhaps, to say exactly what 
this impression arose from. You are aware, 
that, from some natural deficiency of the vocal 
organs, he lacked that strength of voice, and 
grace of utterance, which make an acceptable 
preacher to many. But beneath that, there shone 
out the better qualifications of a well furnished 
mind and heart. There were distinguishable in- 
tellectual gifts, of no ordinary character, with a 
sound judgment and a rare practical good sense, 
that seemed eminently fitted to engage the at- 
tention, reach and improve the understanding. 
And the more solid qualities of the heart ap- 
peared not less conspicuous. There was no 
lack of real fervor of soul ; there were genuine 
sincerity and plain-hearted earnestness, and a 
spirit of piety that showed a truly sympathizing 
and affectionate disposition, which seemed to 
touch the feelings and the heart. I do not mean 
in the sense of kindling and exciting the pas- 



\ 



22 MEMOIR. 

sionsj which he never sought or desired to do. 
Soon after he came to Kennebunk, and before 
he was settled there, he was called to attend the 
funeral services of a young man, then about my 
own age, who had wasted away and fallen, just 
on the verge of manhood, under circumstances 
of peculiar bereavement, being an only son, and 
beloved by all his youthful associates. I well re- 
member how deeply interesting and feelingly 
impressive was the service which brother Edes 
then performed to my own heart, and the hearts 
of most, if not all, who were present. His prayer 
breathed a spirit so solemn, so heavenly, that it 
seemed to touch all hearts, awakening many 
feelings that would not soon, if ever, be forgot- 
ten. It seemed, and it was, the natural, uncon- 
strained outflow of a heart rich with the best 
sympathies and the kindliest affections of our 
nature. I mention this not as a single instance 
of remarkable effect, but as giving some of the 
earliest and best impressions, as an instance 
which by no means stands alone, and which re- 
veals, I think, a prominent feature of his char- 
acter. He possessed the power of truly sympa- 
thizing with others. Good-will, real kindness of 
heart, dwelt in him largely. You would never 
find him wanting in the best feelings, in disin- 
terested feelings, on any occasion. Something 



MEMOIR. 



23 



convinced you, always, that his heart was warm, 
ready to turn the current of its kindest impulses 
in your behalf and in behalf of any thing good. 
Indifference, coldness, apathy of feeling or ac- 
tion, in any respect, I do not remember to have 
witnessed or heard expressed of him. Hence his 
spiritual sympathies were of no ordinary charac- 
ter or effect. As I knew him better, it was on- 
ly to have a higher and higher opinion of him, 
and to be constantly more strongly won by the 
quiet, yet irresistible, attraction of his kindly 
and affectionate nature. This I know was not 
widely enough nor sufficiently appreciated, but it 
was through lack of opportunity or proper ability 
in others to discern and appreciate it. 

''Another fact I used often to be struck with, 
in regard to brother Edes, a quick perception 
and firm conviction respecting what was right 
and duty. The knowledge he possessed was of 
that clear, unmixed character, which seemed to 
reveal to him at once, as by intuition almost, 
the particular point or truth needed in any spe- 
cial case. He seemed to have the fewest doubts, 
in any matter of opinion or duty, of any one I 
was ever conversant with. His inquiries were 
none of your narrow sort, that question the few- 
est possible subjects. He was a wide thinker. 
But his conclusions, and the reasons for them, 



24 



MEMOIR. 



were well settled, and perfectly clear and distinct, 
on almost every point. He was not uncertain, 
not doubtful, not beclouded in his perceptions. 
I know of none who had a more settled and 
rational faith as the basis of his life and ac- 
tions, which never seemed for a moment unfixed 
or wavering. The same feature of mind was 
manifested in regard to duty, in any case of emer- 
gency, perplexity, or excitement. He seemed 
never at a stand, or at a loss, but to have his 
mind ready made up and prepared beforehand. 
There was little hesitating or delay ; what was 
to him the right course seemed to open to him 
at once. His judgment was quick, and he 
never swerved from his convictions or was fear- 
ful of the result. He struck me as peculiarly 
free from any thing like indecision, and without 
any thing like an approach to rashness, in cases 
where one or the other would seem to be hard- 
ly to be avoided. In extreme and really per- 
plexing cases, he seemed to me unusually settled 
and deeply convinced of his duty, not without 
anxiety, but never apprehensive of the result, 
and the result seldom failed to show the truth 
and soundness of his judgment. 

Closely connected with this, he always 
evinced a great equanimity of character, — never 
highly excited, but never lacking real warmth 



MEMOIR. 



25 



and earnestness. Great strength and evenness of 
feeling always seemed to me conspicuous in his 
character, and it shone out in his last hours with a 
holy, tranquillizing power, and a hallowed lustre. 

As a pastor I will add but a word or two. 
He was far-reaching and sincerely devoted in 
his endeavours to the production of permanent 
and useful results. He never had temporary 
aims for immediate and showy effects. He con- 
stantly sought to work a deep, pervading, and 
abiding work. He wrought not with haste or 
violence, but of no man could it be more truly 
said, that he was indefatigable in his efforts, un- 
tiring in his perseverance, and that, too, amid 
many discouraging and sometimes disheartening 
circumstances. But he never relaxed his inter- 
est or his efforts, effectual or not, to produce a 
real and lasting good. His affections and inter- 
est were peculiarly drawn out towards the young. 
His labors were unceasing, and the best sympa- 
thies of his heart ever awake, to promote their 
happiness and welfare. And I am happy to 
know that not a few realize it, and now bless 
him in their hearts, as a true pastor and friend. 
Toward the close of his ministry, when many 
seeds seemed ripening under his care, ready to 
burst with promise, he increased his labors be- 
yond his strength. But he often assured me he 



26 



MEMOIR. 



felt no fatigue, and would not listen to the fears 
of his affectionate wife that he was doing too 
much." 

One of the ladies of Mr. Edes's parish in 
Kennebunk, who was intimate in his family, 
and enjoyed favorable opportunities for knowing 
all his views and feelings, thus writes in regard 
to him. 

" Mr. Edes was interested in every branch of 
Moral Reform. As a Temperance man, he was 
always ready and active, ever willing to devote 
his time, talents, and money to the cause. I 
think it was through his influence, mainly, that 
the Washingtonian reform was brought about 
at so early a period in this place. And after the 
formation of the Society, he was ever ready to 
extend the hand of sympathy and encourage- 
ment to the reformed. In the cause of Peace, 
too, he was warmly interested. He felt that it 
was the cause of his Master, and it occupied his 
attention after he was laid on a bed of suffering. 
At one of the latest interviews I had with him, 
he introduced the subject, and though in distress 
and speaking with difficulty, he told me of an 
effort the friends of peace were making by ask- 
ing for short articles for the secular papers from 
those interested in the cause. 

Mr. Edes warmly espoused the cause of the 



MEMOIR. 



27 



slave. He did not, it is true, subscribe to all the 
articles in the creed of the ultra Abolitionists, 
yet he was, nevertheless, an antislavery man. 
Firmly and unhesitatingly he avowed his senti- 
ments on this subject, though he well knew it 
would expose him to rebuke and obloquy. Tru- 
ly, in this part of his Master's service did he 
know what it was to suffer persecution and re- 
proach. In an article in the Christian Register 
on the character of our late beloved pastor, it 
was stated that he was wisely conservative. I 
did not at the time think the remark would con- 
vey the true impression, and it has led me to 
think of his character, as manifested in the ways 
above mentioned. I think it may much more 
justly be said of him, that he was wisely reform- 
ative. In these days, when so many of the 
ministers of the gospel are standing aloof from 
these important subjects, I am far from con- 
sidering the fearlessness and devotion of our late 
pastor in these matters as unimportant or un- 
worthy of notice. 

With regard to the Christian character of Mr. 
Edes, I think it more dif&cult to speak than of 
that of many other Christians, and for this rea- 
son ; there were no prominent virtues standing 
boldly out, and crowding others into the back- 
ground. In him the Christian graces all re- 



28 



MEMOIR. 



ceived their due culture, — none were neglected, 
none deemed unimportant. It is easy to speak 
of the love of a John, the impassioned energy of 
a Peter, the boldness, eloquence, and zeal of a 
Paul, but when called upon to speak of Him in 
whom all these and every other grace united, 
we feel that the task is beyond our powers, — we 
know not where to begin, nor where to end. 
As a general theory, Christians of the present 
day may more justly be compared to one or 
another of the early disciples than to our great 
Master. But with Mr. Edes it was not so. I 
think we may truly say, that he was a humble 
imitator of all the divine graces enshrined in 
Him who was the light of the world. His 
love of God was joined with love of man. His 
firmness and energy were united to meekness 
and humility. His zeal was tempered with 
charity, his hatred to sin accompanied by love 
of the sinner. Were I asked what seemed to me 
the prevailing spirit of his life, I would answer, 
humble acquiescence in the will of God, patient 
continuance in duty, even amid trials and dis- 
couragements, trusting that in the end all would 
work together for good. 

''His home character was beautiful. Those 
who knew him there could not but love him, 
so full was he of kindness, gentleness, and love. 



MEMOIR. 



29 



He was self-sacrificing, seeking not to please 
himself, but ever promoting the happiness of 
others. In his social intercourse he was affable, 
warm-hearted, affectionate. In him that much 
neglected Christian virtue, courtesy^ was fully 
developed. It was not with him a mere outside 
show, a formal, worldly politeness put on to suit 
times and occasions, it was his every-day attire. 
It sprung from real kindness of heart, from a 
sincere desire to please, from heartfelt obedience 
to the apostolic injunction, 'Be courteous.^ 

"I have spoken of what seemed to me the spir- 
it of his life. It was beautifully and consistent- 
ly carried out in his sickness and death. The 
prayer of his last days was for submission, — to 
use his own words, ' for that submission which 
would not even think a murmur^ or breathe a 
sigh.^ And it was granted. Those who stood 
by his dying bed have declared that they 
should always feel grateful for the privilege. It 
seemed to them (and it no doubt was the case), 
that the calmness and serenity of the spirit 
actually overcame physical suffering and dis- 
tress. Christian faith was triumphant." 

Another of Mr. Edes's parishioners in Kenne- 
bunk, and one of the most active men in all the 
religious concerns and movements of that parish, 
writes thus in regard to him : — There is no 



30 



MEMOIR. 



small difficulty in portraying the character of 
Mr. Edes. All the attributes which unite in 
making up a good character were exhibited in 
his intercourse with his people. Faith, vir- 
tue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness, 
brotherly-kindness, and charity ' were in him 
and abounded,' — no one of them indeed preemi- 
nently, but all were cultivated to such a degree, 
that a limited acquaintance and intercourse with 
him could not fail to impress deeply upon the 
mind the conviction that he was the true Chris- 
tian, that he well understood and felt all his ob- 
ligations as a man and as a Christian minister. 
His conscience was not satisfied with the faith- 
ful discharge of any one duty, or with the culti- 
vation and manifestation of any one Christian 
virtue. In all things he endeavoured to exhibit, 
to cherish, and to strengthen within him the 
spirit of his Master, and to show, not only that 
he had been with Jesus, but that Jesus was with 
him, and he with Jesus, continually. So that, 
whenever any subject was presented in which 
was involved the improvement of any of his 
brethren of the human family, or the extension 
of any of those moral attributes which are the 
only certain basis of human happiness, his intel- 
lectual powers, his prayers, and his personal ex- 
ertions were at once cheerfully enlisted in aid of 



MEMOIR. 



31 



the philanthropic side of the question. Though 
in all his views decidedly evangelical (in the 
Unitarian sense of that term), he did not hesitate 
to unite with others of any denomination, even 
though reviled by them as an infidel, in carrying 
forward any work of moral and spiritual reform. 
His pulpit was frequently yielded, on the Sab- 
bath day, to those of another sect, who never 
manifested any special Christian sympathy for 
him, when they desired to present to his people 
any subject which might secure for it their be- 
nevolent cooperation. The diffusion of knowl- 
edge, the advancement of the Temperance refor- 
mation, the liberation of those who are in bond- 
age, and the advancement of true Christian 
piety, which can alone efficiently carry on and 
perfect these philanthropic enterprises, were ob- 
jects on which his mind was intently fixed, and 
to which he always rendered a wise and effect- 
ual aid. 

"I do not think that Mr. Edes, either in his 
principles or his practice, was to be considered as 
conservative^ in the sense in which that term 
seems to be understood by many of the Unitarian 
ministry. He had no sympathy with the feeling 
that all things had better remain as they have 
been from the beginning. He did not feel that 
the cause of God and of Christ would be subserved 



32 



MEMOIR. 



better by a mere gathering at the house of God 
twice on the Sabbath day, and hearing the gos- 
pel dispensed by him who was the regularly or- 
dained teacher of the people, than by many 
other means and opportunities, of which other 
denominations had availed themselves. He was 
in favor of assemblies at other times and other 
places, for spiritual improvement and prayer. 
He valued the prayer-meeting, the conference- 
meeting, — and felt deeply the healthful Chris- 
tian influences resulting from the participation 
of laymen in the exercises of these meetings. 
He was anxious that all should speak the word 
freely, as it might suggest itself to their minds, 
and lead in prayer whenever prompted so to do. 
He had no fears in departing from old, estab- 
lished usages, when the cause of his Master re- 
quired it. He suggested, more than once, that 
he wished every one, who rose to exhort, in- 
struct, or confess, to follow with prayer, be- 
lieving that there was nothing like prayer to 
make men leave ofl!* sinning, and to strengthen 
them in duty, and that faithful, effectual prayer 
was one of the most soul-stirring methods of ad- 
ministering the word ; that prayer was blessed 
to the salvation of sinners as frequently as di- 
rect appeals to the conscience and the under- 
standing, in the sermon, or in any other manner 



MEMOIR. 



33 



in which men are urged to embrace the terms 
of the gospel. He did not fear excitement in 
religious things. He believed that some excite- 
ment was necessary to the advancement of any 
good cause. He did not think it his duty to en- 
deavour to repress or trammel the Christian zeal 
of his hearers. Intellectually and spiritually, Mr. 
Edes had all those qualifications which were 
necessary to make him an efficient minister of 
the gospel. The views set forth in his sermons 
were also preached by his life. He never 
preached Christ in the pulpit, and denied him in 
his daily walk. His life and public ministrations 
were in perfect harmony. The only failing, on 
the part of Mr. Edes, was, that he was not, while 
settled over this society, blessed with that de- 
gree of health and strength so necessary to him 
who is called to the work of the ministry. His 
voice, so all important to accompany the word, 
was feeble. Though in that calm and resigned 
state of mind with which he always submitted 
to the allotments of Providence, he consider- 
ed himself as possessing common health and 
strength, yet his parishioners could always see 
that his physical energies were insufficient to 
give full power and effect to his preaching. 

It has been seen what Mr. Edes was, and how 
he was esteemed by his parishioners, while at 
3 



34 



MEMOIR. 



Kennebunk. We must hasten to the closing 
scene. The account of the commencement of 
his last sickness will be given in his own words. 
In a letter to his cousin. Rev. R. S. Edes, of Bol- 
ton, Mass., dated January 15th, 1845, he says: — 
But, dear Richard, when shall I ever be able 
to write to you without mentioning sickness or 
death. You will be as sorry to hear as I am to say 
that I am sick again. It was eight weeks last 
Sunday since I preached, and that was in Ports- 
mouth, N. H. I returned home the next day at 
noon, in a high fever, and went immediately to 
bed, and have been confined to my room to this 
day, except that, for two or three weeks past, I 
have ridden out occasionally, on a pleasant day. 
My disease is on my lungs. The first time my 
physician examined me, he said it was inflamma- 
tion on the substance of the lungs, of some time 
standing, and recent bronchitis. The last time 
he examined me, about three weeks since, he 
said the inflammation was gone, and that there 
was congestion in one place, to which he applied 
a blister. I am now considerably better than I 
was. But my cough, though not very trouble- 
some, still sticks by me, and seems very unwil- 
ling to be removed. The least exertion puts me 
all out of breath, and it is very uncertain when 
I shall be able to resume my profession. And 



MEMOIR. 



35 



now you ask what was the cause of this sick- 
ness. There were two causes, I think. One 
was the dampness of the house in which I live. 
The other was over-exertion. Oq the first Sun- 
day in November, from the Sunday School in 
the morning to the close of the Bible Class, about 
nine o' clock in the evening, I spoke about six 
hours. Probably I had a slight cold at the time, 
though I was not conscious of it, and the re- 
sult was the bronchitis. Our Association was to 
meet at Topsham the nexrweek, Tuesday, and 
my physician thought I could go with impunity, 
if I did not expose myself. After preaching the 
next Sunday, I set out early Monday morning. 
But the weather proved bad, and the travelling 
was very heavy. I had a most fatiguiug ride. I 
preachedo n Tuesday, came back to Portland on 
Wednesday, and reached home Thursday noon. 
I did what I could for myself until Saturday 
morning, when I felt quite comfortable, and took 
the cars for Portsmouth, oq an exchange. I felt 
pretty well until I began and went on a little 
with the public services. And then, O, such a 
distressing, irritating, grating feeling as I had in 
my lungs ! It seemed as if they were rubbed 
over with rough files. However, there was no 
help for it, and I went on, till the services of the 
day were completed. In the evening, I called 



36 



MEMOIR. 



upon a physician, took his advice, and obtained 
some medicine, and next morning came home as 
I said." 

After having been seized with disease as has 
been above described, Mr. Edes passed the win- 
ter, like most others who are laboring under con- 
sumptive complaints, alternating in his feelings 
between hope and fear, sometimes cheered by 
bright visions of future health and usefulness, 
and then again completely discouraged in regard 
to the prospect of recovery. In the spring, he 
was able to journey as far as Boston, where he 
went, accompanied by his wife, who had been 
his principal nurse, to seek for medical advice, 
and in the hope of obtaining some efficient med- 
ical aid. He was disappointed. He found there 
was no relief for him. He failed very rapidly, 
and passed on to his reward on the 30th of May. 

It has already been seen, in the extracts from 
the letters of friends which have been giv- 
en, that the faith by which he had been guided 
and strengthened in the labors of life was suf- 
ficient to afi'ord him all the support which he 
needed. A brother clergyman, who visited him 
near the close of life, thus writes : — ''It was my 
privilege to see him but a day or two before his 
death, and probably among the last who were 
admitted to his chamber. He was then too fee- 



MEMOIR. 



37 



ble to utter many words, but his countenance in- 
dicated the most entire composure of the mind. 
His work was finished, and he was ready to de- 
part. I was forcibly struck with his appearance, 
and not being aware before of his extreme fee- 
bleness, and of the utter hopelessness of his re- 
covery, I probably manifested more agitation 
than I ought to have done. But when I alluded 
to his situation and the prospect of his early 
death, he replied, with the sweetest smile and 
the calmest tone, ' O, I have nothing to fear. I 
am perfectly willing to die.' And so, I am told, 
he passed away, with the most perfect serenity 
and composure of mind. You and I, my friend, 
shall look around us in vain, I think, to find a 
purer life or a truer heart." 

Some more general testimonials than any 
which have thus far been given will here be 
added. " His character," says one who knew it 
well, " was one certainly about which none who 
knew him could mistake : one of singular guile- 
lessness, purity, and excellence ; one which was 
all that it seemed to be, the highest eulogium, 
perhaps, that could be passed upon it. His mod- 
esty, his perfect simplicity and truthfulness, were 
as striking as was his solid intellectual and mor- 
al worth ; for he was a man of more than or- 
dinary intellectual power. He thought well, 



38 



MEMOIR. 



and clothed his thoughts in a neat, expressive, 
and often beautiful style. And when his com- 
paratively limited opportunities for making the 
acquisitions requisite to the successful occupancy 
of such posts as he has honorably and usefully 
filled are taken into the account, when it is con- 
sidered how much he owed to himself, and how 
little to outward helps, it is impossible, I think, 
not to ascribe to him more than common natural 
endowments, and more than ordinary fidelity in 
the use and improvement of them. 

As for his private and Christian character, that 
spoke for itself. He disguised nothing, and he 
had nothing to disguise. He was a man of great 
natural amiability, and it is possible that he may 
sometimes, from this cause, have appeared want- 
ing in energy. If there was a failure in this re- 
spect, I am inclined to think that his delicate 
health and feeble body had as much to do with 
it as any constitutional trait of character. And 
even though something may have been wanting 
in that force which some exigencies in a minis- 
ter's life seem to demand, was it not more than 
compensated by that gentleness and kindness of 
heart and of manners, so well adapted to win the 
affections of those who came within the sphere 
of his influence ? That Mr. Edes was a sincere, 
true-hearted Christian, none who knew him inti- 



MEMOIR. 



39 



mately can doubt. He was not a man to make 
the least parade of any virtue or attainment. 
Humble in his estimate of himself, and true in 
all his words and conduct, a stranger might 
not penetrate to the solid worth which lay be- 
neath his quiet and unpretending exterior. But 
his friends knew that he wore his piety, as he 
did all his other excellences, naturally ; that it 
was there, guiding and strengthening him for 
the duties and conflicts of life, as it preserved his 
spirit calm and undismayed on the bed of death." 

Another writes thus : — My own impression 
in regard to Mr. Edes is, that, without being a 
man of remarkable .insight, he generally took just 
and discriminating views of things, that he was 
quite a fair scholar, very public-spirited, firm and 
manly, though rather calm and quiet in charac- 
ter, strictly conscientious, and as amiable a man 
as lived. The sentiment of religious reverence 
seems to have been active in his mind. He 
may be said, I think, to have held the pen of a 
ready writer, inheriting from both parents litera- 
ry tastes, and from his mother more particular- 
ly facility and grace of composition. In bodily 
presence he was not striking, and he probably 
never made the impression to which his charac- 
ter and attainments justly entitled him." 

This sketch, it may be thought, perhaps, by 



40 



MEMOIR. 



many, might with propriety here be closed ; but 
as the writer enjoyed the intimate acquaint- 
ance and friendship of Mr. Edes, and has in oth- 
er ways been favored with opportunities of be- 
coming more intimately acquainted with his 
views, feelings, and circumstances than most 
others, it may not be wholly inappropriate for 
him to add to the testimonials already given his 
own impressions of his character. 

Mr. Edes, as has already been intimated, was 
subjected to many and severe trials. He had 
been in business and had failed. At the time of 
his ordination at Eastport, he was in debt. By 
the generosity of that people,. and by such other 
means as he could avail himself of, he was en- 
abled, within seven years after his settlement, to 
pay the debts incurred while in business, and 
which had weighed like an incubus upon him. 
But still, moving as he was from place to place, 
with an increasing family, and almost constant 
sickness in it, he was kept straitened in his 
means, and it was not until the winter before his 
death that he was enabled to free himself en- 
tirely from debt, — a result to which he had long 
looked forward with great eagerness. There 
was nothing parsimonious in Mr. Edes's disposi- 
tion. He seldom, if ever, sent the suppliant 
away empty. And he gave from principle, as 



MEMOIR. 



41 



well as to gratify his own feelings. And when 
he withheld, he did it in violence to his own 
feelings, but from principle, and because he had 
not the means of giving. Mr. Edes might, per- 
haps, require more for his personal expenses than 
many others, but his hospitality often called 
upon his purse. Then, too, his love of order 
and neatness in house and establishment might 
have led him to expend more than some would 
have done, and yet he felt all the time that he 
was most rigid in his retrenchments. The sum- 
mit of his hopes, in regard to this world's goods, 
was not unreasonable. All he wished, as he 
himself often said, was ''to be free from debt, 
and to have a quarter's salary in advance." The 
paralyzing influence of being embarrassed with 
debt upon all the energies, and its benumbing 
effects upon all the warmer feelings of the heart, 
should be taken into account if we would form 
a right estimate of character. It often produces 
either hopelessness and inefficiency, or reckless- 
ness and indifference. When we look at Mr. 
Edes in this light, and consider the quiet but 
earnest zeal with which he devoted himself to 
his great work, the calmness and cheerfulness 
with which he went resolutely forward in his 
labors, and the settled perseverance of his efforts 
to pay his debts, we shall award to him a high 



42 



MEMOIR. 



meed of praise for his Christian energy and 
equanimity. For these qualities, so often separ- 
ated from each other, but blended in harmonious 
union in Mr. Edes's character, were not the re- 
sult entirely of natural temperament, but were 
based upon and sustained by Christian principle, 
— upon devotion to the service of God, and 
trust in the wisdom and goodness of his over- 
ruling Providence. 

Mr. Edes's feebleness of health constitutes 
another important circumstance to be taken into 
careful consideration, in forming a right estimate 
of his character. And the state of his health 
was precisely such as would paralyze his ener- 
gies, while it did not confine him to a bed of 
sickness. It is often the case, that a severe fit 
of sickness, or a season of acute pain, may be 
more easily borne than protracted and paralyzing 
debility, — a state of the health which will not 
authorize entire cessation from all active efforts, 
while yet it deadens all the lively interest which 
we might otherwise feel in our labors. This 
state of the health often produces the habit of 
constant and mournful complaint, of dwelling at 
all times and in all companies upon aches and 
pains, symptoms and remedies. And, if we are 
not careful to guard against its natural tendency, 
it will generate a spirit of refined selfishness, — 



MEMOIR. 



43 



a disposition to be continually seeking one's own 
cornfortj to the utter neglect of the comfort of 
others. Mr. Edes undoubtedly suffered much in 
this way. And yet very seldom did a complaint 
of ill health escape his lips ; very seldom was he 
heard to speak of his aches and pains, of his 
languor and debility ; and still more seldom, if 
possible, did he excuse himself, on account of ill 
health, from any labor which properly fell to his 
lot. In his own house, and in all his intercourse 
with his fellow-men, he seemed not to think of 
himself, but to be desirous of promoting the 
happiness of others. One of the correspondents 
to whom we are indebted for some portion of 
this sketch speaks of an apparent want of ener- 
gy, which he attributes to want of health. We 
object to the idea that Mr. Edes was lacking in 
true Christian energy of character. He was not, 
it is true, a man of bustle and stir, of noise and 
parade. But, if cheerful and uncomplaining en- 
durance of oppressive burdens in the shape of 
debts and disease, if resolute and uncompromis- 
ing devotion to duty amid obstacles and discour- 
agements, constitute energy of character, then 
was the character of our departed brother marked 
by true Christian energy. And yet there was 
one particular in which his peculiar state of 
health did exert a powerful influence upon his 



44 



MEMOIR. 



character. And that was in maldng him desire, 
with an ahnost heart-withering longing at times, 
to enjoy Christian sympathy. We all know 
how much we feel the need of sympathy in 
seasons of debility, and how much more de- 
pendent on others we feel at such times, than 
when in the full glow of perfect health. Mr. 
Edes manifested something of this, we think, 
in regard to religious effort. He did not relax 
his own exertions, even though they might 
seem to be unaided and unsuccessful, for he 
leaned on One higher than man. But he was 
one who felt deeply the want of true-hearted 
religious friends around him, on whom he might 
lean as his props and supports, — the want of those 
who would cheer him by their kind-hearted 
sympathy, and strengthen him by their active 
cooperation. And perhaps the same causes op- 
erated to make him long, more than some, to 
witness the results of his labors. On one occa- 
sion, he writes thus to a friend : — ''I am confi- 
dent that I have sowed good seed in my field, 
and although the fruits are few that have ap- 
parently come to maturity, yet I cannot help 
believing that there is some seed already sown 
which is yet to germinate and bring forth the 
fruits of righteousness. Weak as this support 
is, it is almost all that I have to sustain me in 



MEMOIR. 



45 



my labors, and incite me to continued efforts. 
I have, indeed, the consciousness of having done 
my part, and I know that if the exhortations 
and admonitions I have given had been received 
in the same spirit in which they were given, or 
if they had been received with any due sense 
of their importance to those to whom they were 
addressed, our society would present a very dif- 
ferent aspect from that it now wears." This 
extract presents Mr. Edes as one sincere and 
faithful in his labors, trusting to the power of 
truth and to the grace of God for the result, 
and 3^et strongly desiring to see some more visi- 
ble effects than he was permitted to witness. 

And we have thought that this tendency to 
look somewhat upon the dark shades of the pic- 
ture which exhibited the results of his labors 
was. increased by the very exaltation of his own 
aims and purposes in regard to himself and 
others. The Christian standard of feeling and 
of character, as portrayed in the gospel and ex- 
hibited in the life and example of Christ, was 
ever before him, as the point to which he should 
seek to elevate himself and the community. 
He wished to see all who enjoyed the light of 
the gospel governed by the principles of the 
gospel. He could not bear to see a professed 
follower of Jesus governed in his conduct by a 



46 



MEMOIR. 



single regard to the question of expediency. 
He wished all to take the higher stand of un- 
swerving devotion to duty. In his own spirit- 
ual efforts, he did not suffer himself to rest con- 
tented with any present attainments, but was 
continually pressing forward to higher and still 
higher advances in the divine life, ever seek- 
ing to secure a higher seat in the mansions of 
heavenly bliss. And not only so, but he was 
continually urging others to the same strenuous 
efforts after constantly increasing progress in 
purity and holiness. How often have we heard 
brother Edes lament that such low and almost 
material views of the kingdom of heaven were 
prevalent in the community, — that intelligent 
and devoted Christians were ready to say, that, if 
they could only secure an entrance into the 
heavenly city, they should ask and seek for 
nothing more. As though heaven were a place 
to be entered, and not a state of the soul to be 
cultivated, and in the cultivation of which we 
should rest contented with nothing short of the 
highest attainments in the spiritual life. 

Mr. Edes was not fond of temporary excite- 
ments upon the subject of religion. He used 
often to say, that he thought there was too strong 
a tendency to this even in some portions of the 
Unitarian community, and that if our clergymen 



MEMOIR. 



47 



were to put forth their efforts in this direction, 
they might easily secure this result ; that men 
loved to be deeply excited ; that it was easier 
and pleasanter than straightforward obedience, or 
earnest eflforts after high attainments in holiness. 
But he had serious doubts of the advantages of 
such temporary excitements, and therefore he la- 
bored to awaken a more deep and permanent in- 
terest. He always rejoiced to witness among 
his people the kindlings of a healthy excitement, 
and that, indeed, was what he wished above all 
things to see, — a steady flame, and not mere 
fitful flashes. Mr. Edes, it has been said by one 
correspondent, was interested in social meetings 
and lay efl'ort, and encouraged all to offer the 
word of exhortation or lead in prayer. This is 
true. But, as we have often conversed freely 
with our brother, freely and fully, upon this sub- 
ject, we have feared that the simple and naked 
statement might give a wrong impression in re- 
gard to his true views and feelings. He was in- 
terested in social meetings, and wished all to 
speak in them. The difficulty he found was in 
the fact, that generally but few would speak, and 
that with those few speaking was in danger of 
becoming a mere form, or of being marked by 
great sameness. What Mr. Edes wished to see 
was a free and full expression of feelings or of 



48 



MEMOIR. 



views by all. He would have no one speak be- 
cause he felt that there ought to be speaking, or 
that he was expected to speak, but would have 
all give free utterance to the emotions awakened 
in their hearts. He felt that these meetings 
were appointed especially for the laymen, that 
if the speaking were to be all by the clergy- 
man, he might as well prepare his discourse, and 
preach from the pulpit, as to enter the vestry. 
He was desirous of seeing more lay action. He 
was not satisfied with lay talk. He often ex- 
pressed his wish to see the professed followers of 
the Lord Jesus seeking out their brethren and 
sisters of the human family and bringing them to 
Jesus, — taking an active part in correcting pub- 
lic sentiment upon the subjects embraced by the 
various reforms of the day, — doing all in their 
power to bring the community up to right views 
and notions in regard to temperance, the aboli- 
tion of slavery, and the discontinuance of war. 

Mr. Edes was an affectionate and enduring 
friend. There was in this respect no fickleness 
in his character, no forgetfulness of old friend- 
ships in the formation of new ones. If he once 
became sincerely attached, no distances of earth, 
no separations of time, diminished his attach- 
ment. He ever took a deep interest in those he 
had once embraced in his affectionate regards as 



MEMOIR. 



49 



friends, always rejoiced in their prosperity and 
welfare, and was at all times ready to do what 
might be in his power to promote their hap- 
piness, and especially their spiritual improve- 
ment and their religious joy. As an instance of 
this, we insert the following letter, written while 
at Augusta to a former parishioner and friend in 
Eastport, and which, says the friend from whom 
it was received, gave the lady to whom it was 
addressed great consolation, and strengthened 
her for the closing scene. 

"Augusta, Sept. 18th, 1838. 

'^My dear a., — 

"I have recently heard from Mr. Edes [Rev. 
R. S. Edes, his successor at Eastport], that you 
are brought low by sickness, and are apparently 
approaching the close of all earthly sufferings. I 
have thought, therefore, that it might be gratify- 
ing to you to receive a letter from one who was 
formerly your pastor, and is still your friend. I 
write to assure you of my sympathy and unabat- 
ed regard. You know I have always felt a deep 
interest in you, and especially in your spiritual 
welfare. I have not forgotten, nor shall I for- 
get, the time when you first came to me, and so 
candidly opened the state of your mind, and ex- 
pressed a desire to be united with the church of 
4 



50 



MEMOIR. 



our blessed Saviour, that you might openly man- 
ifest your interest in him, and your intention 
to live as his professed disciple. 

And now, amid the pains and weakness of 
disease and the near prospect of death, it must be 
a rich source of consolation to you, that you did 
engage yourself to him, in the way of his ap- 
pointment, and by the bonds of an everlasting 
covenant. I trust you have now sweet experi- 
ence of the sustaining power of that religion, 
which God sent his Son to teach for the support 
and comfort of his human children. O, how 
great was the love of God to the world, which 
sent his Son, not to condemn the world but to 
save ! And how consoling must the thought of 
that love be to you, as you look forward to a 
speedy entrance into his more immediate pres- 
ence. It is his love which has robbed death of 
its terrors, and made it the portal to endless life 
and bliss ; and it comes to you as a kind sum- 
mons from a Father, whom you have loved and 
served, to take you to himself, to lead you away 
from further struggles with temptation and sin, 
to the rich and unfailing recompense of heaven- 
ly blessedness. 

" How much do I rejoice with you, dear A., 
that you have the gospel to sustain you in this 
your last trial, so that while the scenes of time are 



MEMOIR. 



51 



closing o'er you for ever, your faith can rest calm- 
ly on the Saviour's declaration, — ' I am the 
resurrection and the life ; whosoever believeth in 
me shall never die.' Truly have you, as a 
Christian, not only hope but joy in death. For 
the religion you have loved and obeyed permits 
you to believe that all sorrow and affliction will 
soon be past, that then you will no more be so- 
licited to sin, or betrayed into temptation, no 
more faint under the weight of duty, no more 
will your spiritual aspirations be checked, but 
your progress in holiness will go on without im- 
pediment, and you will be permitted to enjoy an 
uninterrupted communion with the God whom 
you have worshipped, and the Saviour whom 
you have loved. 

" Soon will you be released frcfta the weariness 
and languor which now oppress you, and your 
freed spirit will rise, with renewed and exhaust- 
less vigor, to the holy duties and ceaseless de- 
lights of immortality. The abounding mercy of 
God, in Christ, is the unfailing support of the 
trustful soul. It is not our own deserts that can 
inspire this joyous expectation. Alas ! the con- 
sciousness of our deficiences and sins must awak- 
en feelings qf an opposite character. But to 
the promised grace of God we may trust with 
immovable confidence. He has mercifully giv- 



MEMOIR. 



en to our helplessness a Saviour, who is able 
to save to the uttermost, and whose gracious 
declaration is, ' He that cometh to me I will in 
no wise cast out.' I am confident that you are 
devoutly thankful for this ample consolation 
which is in Christ. And as I know this, I can- 
not feel regret that God is so soon calling you 
from the temptations of a sinful world. I can- 
not regret that you are so soon to go to rest from 
sin, and live with holiness and with God. No. 
My regrets are not for you. But I do regret 
that your friendly counsels are no more to be 
enjoyed in interesting others in the great salva- 
tion ; for I know your earnest desire to do good, 
and to lead all within your influence to the same 
fountain of healing waters at which your own 
soul has been refreshed and strengthened. Yet, 
while I feel sorrow on this account, I think I 
express your sentiment, as well as my own, 
when I say, ' It is the Lord ; let him do what 
seemeth him good.' And now, dear A., fare- 
well for a season. In the offering of fervent 
prayers, I commend your spirit into the hands of 
a Heavenly Father. His grace is sufficient for 
you. Thanks be to God, who giveth you the 
victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 
" Your brother in Christ, 

Edward H. Edes." 



* 



MEMOIR. 53 

The season of separation, of which our broth- 
er spoke in his farewell to his friend, has passed 
away, and his purified spirit has joined hers, 
and the whole company of the ransomed of the 
Lord, in the worship of the upper temple. We 
have endeavoured to portray his character, to 
bring out its beauty and its excellence. We 
have done this not so much for the purpose of 
honoring the dead, as with the hope of benefit- 
ing the living. We have hoped, in this brief 
sketch, to present to the Christian community 
generally, and to the clerical profession in partic- 
ular, the example of one who, while living, 
showed himself to be a sincere and true Chris- 
tian, a faithful and devoted minister of the Lord 
Jesus. 



SERMONS. 



SERMONS. 



SERMON I. 

SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 

AWAKE, THOU THAT SLEEPEST, AND ARISE FROM THE DEAD, 
AND CHRIST SHALL GIVE THEE LIGHT, Eph. V. 14. 

These words not only describe a condition in 
which men are too generally found, but they 
also enjoin duties, and present motives. The 
condition is that of insensibility and uncon- 
^cern respecting their spiritual interests. It is 
the general condition of mankind. There is 
little or no anxiety about their souls and spirit- 
ual things; no wakefulness on the subject of re- 
ligion. Their affections are fixed on the world, 
and the things of the world. There is, indeed, 
no want of activity, energy, and efi'ort. But 
they all have an earthly direction, and all find 
their objects within the domains of time and 
sense. It is almost the same, as to any practi- 



I 



58 SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 

cal purpose, as if there were no other world, — 
as if heaven and hell, judgment and eternity, 
were mere figures of speech, or vagaries of a 
diseased imagination. But if, as Christianity 
affirms, these things are realities, and the most 
important of all realities to us, to whom they 
have an immediate and direct relation, then is it 
also true, that they who are indifferent and un- 
concerned about them are in a state of moral 
sleep and death. Eyes have they, but they 
see not ; ears have they, but they hear not ; 
hearts have they, but they feel not. They see 
all objects, but see them not in their spiritual re- 
lations, as connected with God and eternity ; — 
they hear all sounds of nature and of human in- 
tercourse, but they hear not the voice of God. 
They hear every thing but those calls that are 
made upon the soul ; the calls of blessing, and 
trial, and temptation, and encouragement, and 
warning, that are all around them. They notice 
every thing in the paths of life but those direc- 
tions, and commands, and exhortations, that con- 
stantly address themselves to the spiritual nature. 
They see not, at every step, duties, mercies, 
privileges, means of virtuous improvement, op- 
portunities of usefulness, dangers admonishing 
them, blessed hopes entreating them, and heaven 
opening to them. They feel their relations to 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 



59 



the passing state of things, and are keenly sensi- 
ble of all influences which may affect their 
worldly interests, but to the spiritual, the un- 
earthly, the eternal, and to the influences which 
affect their immortal interest, their 'hearts are 
dead. 

Such is the condition of spiritual sleep and 
death to which my text refers. Let me now 
direct your minds to the duty and the motive 
which are also presented by my text. The duty 
is to awake out of sleep, and to arise from the 
dead. The injunction is addressed to the care- 
less, the indifferent, the unconcerned, in a reli- 
gious regard. And to such the duty implies 
first, that they reflect upon their condition so as 
to understand its guilt and danger.- The great 
reason why there is so much indifference to re- 
ligion, so much carelessness about the soul's 
salvation, is because there is so little reflection. 
Hurried along as we are by the passing events 
of time, and occupied by its shifting scenes, we 
do not stop to reflect whither the current is car- 
rying us. We do not consider what will be, 
what must be, the final result of our worldliness, 
how it estranges the heart from God and heav- 
enly things, and how it absorbs in itself that 
attention which should have a higher and holier 
object. To this point, then, is the first call of 



60 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 



duty directed. Awake, thou that sleepest. Con- 
sider thy condition. Thou art an immortal be- 
ing, and thou art devoting thine all to the 
things that perish. Thou hast a soul to save, 
and for its salvation thou hast no care. Thou 
art placed on earth to be educated for eternity, 
and for that education thou hast neither time 
nor thought. Thus the great purposes of thy 
being, the ends for the accomplishment of which 
God has so highly endowed thy nature, are un- 
cared for and neglected. What, then, must be 
the end of this course ? What account wilt thou 
render for the duties enjoined on thee, and for 
the trust committed to thy charge ? What must 
be the condition in eternity for which thy pres- 
ent character has fitted thee ? To what canst 
thou then look forward but the doom of the 
slothful servant ? Barest thou now meet thy 
God in judgment ? or with what excuses canst 
thou justify thy neglect? Thou art laboring 
hard indeed, thou art industrious, frugal, and 
careful, but it is only for the treasures of earth ; 
and canst thou give them as a ransom for thy 
soul ? What then can it profit thee to gain the 
whole world at the expense of thy soul's ever- 
lasting peace ? The time, moreover, of thy 
earthly sojourn is rapidly drawing to its close. 
These opportunities of amendment, these means 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 



61 



of grace, these privileges of religion, cannot be 
thine much longer. " Boast not thyself of to- 
morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may 
bring forth." It may remove thee from this 
state of discipline and spiritual culture, it may 
bring over thy bright hopes the dark shadow of 
death, it may confine thy spreading anticipations 
within the narrow limits of the grave. Awake, 
then, thou that sleepest, — awake to these sol- 
emn reflections, — these startling considerations. 
Awake now, and let thy meditations be of the 
things that pertain to thine immortal interests, 
lest they should be shut from thine eyes for ever. 

Such is the course of reflection to which the 
call of the text first directs our attention. It 
calls us to thought, to consideration. It presents 
before us the objects to which the powers of our 
spiritual nature should be devoted, and bids us 
think, deliberate, and judge. If this duty is 
faithfully attended to, the next step will natural- 
ly be repentance. Break ofl" thy sins by re- 
pentance, and thine iniquities by turning unto 
God. Arise from this state of death, and seek 
newness of life in Christ. Repent, for the 
kingdom of heaven is at hand, and without 
repentance thou canst never be a member of that 
kingdom. Christ came to call sinners to re- 
pentance. Acknowledge, then, thy sins, that 



62 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 



thou mayest be cleansed from them, and be 
made fit for the kingdom of God. Let the con- 
viction of thine unworthiness fill thy heart with 
that godly sorrow which worketh repentance. 
Shouldst thou not mourn for thy transgressions, 
and be sorrowful for thy sins ? Thou hast sin- 
ned against thy Father, in whose arms thou hast 
been borne from thy birth, and by whose good- 
ness thy life has been sustained and blessed. 
The powers which thou hast abused were his 
gift, and thou hast turned them against him. 
The mercies thou hast received were tokens of 
his parental love, and thou hast despised that 
love whilst thou wert enjoying its fruits. In- 
gratitude, negligence, disobedience, have marked 
the steps of thy past life, and shalt thou not 
mourn, lament, and weep ? O, there is need 
that thou exercise repentance ! How else canst 
thou unburthen thyself of the heavy load of sin 
and folly that thy past life has accumulated? 
How else canst thou lift up thy face to him 
against whom thou hast sinned ? How else 
canst thou hope for that divine aid and blessmg 
without which thou canst never be qualified for 
eternal blessedness ? If, then, thou wouldst not 
have passed on thee that sentence of condem- 
nation from which there is no appeal or escape, 
arouse thyself now, while the opportunity is left, 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 



63 



to that repentance which is unto life. The 
mercy-seat of the God of grace is waiting for 
the sacrifices of thy penitence and contrition. 
There mayest thou offer them with acceptance, 
and He who will in no wise cast away any that 
come to him in sincerity of purpose will be thy 
advocate, and in him thou wilt stand redeemed 
from thine iniquities, and washed from thy de- 
filements. Through the grace that is in Christ 
Jesus, the tears of thy penitence shall be changed 
to the joy of a hopeful trust, and thou wilt feel 
the blessedness of those whose sins are forgiven, 
and to whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity. 

The third point to which my text calls atten- 
tion is the active duties of the Christian life. 
Thou who hast been sleeping so long in indif- 
ference to thy spiritual interests, awake from 
thy guilty slumbers, arise from thy death-like 
insensibility, and begin, ere it be too late, the 
work of life. There is a work enjoined upon 
thee, and which God sent thee into the world 
to do. All the capacities of thy nature, and all 
the events and circumstances of thy being, are 
arranged with express reference to that work. 
And it is a work, — something to be done, — 
something not merely to think about, and feel 
about, and talk about ; but something to do, — 
requiring labor, toil, effort, — requiring that all 



64 SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 

thine energies, every power which God has 
given thee, be brought to bear directly and un- 
ceasingly upon it. It is only through this ear- 
nest striving, these active labors, that thou 
canst hope for success. And the reasonableness 
of this demand is felt and understood, and acted 
upon, with respect to all worldly acquisitions. 
Thou canst not gain one of the objects of tem- 
poral good without laboring for it. Wealth, and 
fame, and pleasure are but the recompense of 
eifort, without which they can never be realized. 
So must thou put forth effort to secure religion, 
if thou wouldst enjoy her rewards. " Thou canst 
not gain the smallest parcel of this poor earth 
without laboring for it ; and then thou canst not 
render it productive without labor." So must 
thou labor in the field of thine own spiritual na- 
ture, which God has given thee. There must 
thou watch, protect, and nourish the plants 
of faith, and piety, and righteousness, if thou 
wouldst have them bear fruit unto everlasting 
life. 

The promises of God are to those who know 
and do his will. Christ is the author of eternal 
salvation to those who obey him. If, then, thou 
art negligent here, it is at thy peril, — the peril 
of thy soul's salvation. Though thou hast re- 
flected long and deeply on thy sinfulness, and 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 



65 



the conviction of thy lost condition is fixed in 
thy mind, and thou hast sorrowed after a godly 
sort, and wept the tears of penitence and contri- 
tion, all this cannot avail thee unless thou arouse 
thyself to active duty, and bring forth the fruits 
of repentance, and live the life of obedience. 
Here is both the proof and the expression of the 
religious spirit. Here is the evidence that thou 
hast awakened from thy spiritual sleep, — that 
thou hast passed from death unto life. And thy 
rejoicing shall be, that the life of duty on earth 
will result in the life of blessedness in heaven. 

Such, then, are the duties which my text may 
be understood to prescribe to us all, so far as we 
are indifferent and unconcerned as to our spirit- 
ual interests, — reflection on our moral state, 
repentance of our sins, and engagedness in the 
actual labors of the religious life. These duties 
bear a direct relation to each other, and present 
themselves to our consideration in their mutual 
connection. Every day it becomes us to exam- 
ine our spiritual state by deep and earnest reflec- 
tion, to exercise repentance for the sins thus 
discovered, and to quicken our diligence in ac- 
tive duty. To this end is the motive which my 
text presents addressed to us, — " and Christ shall 
give thee light." This is a motive full of en- 
couragement, and ought to be sufficient to in- 
5 



66 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 



cite us to the faithful practice of the duties we 
have considered. 

It is worthy of remark, that the manner in 
which this motive is presented is perfectly con- 
sistent with all the Scriptural directions on this 
point. " Awake to duty, and then Christ will 
give thee light." Make a beginning in the work 
of life, enter on the path into which thou art di- 
rected, and light shall be afforded to make the 
way of duty plain before thee, and to guide thine 
onward steps. Are there not many w^ho are 
fearful about commencing the religious life, lest 
they shall fail in the practice of their duty ? 
How needless, how perfectly groundless, is that 
fear, when regarded in the light shed upon it by 
the gospel ! Thou art not called to go on in 
thine own strength. God from on high will 
send into thy soul the strengthening influences 
of his holy spirit. Christ, by his gospel, will 
instruct and enlighten thy mind as to all his 
requirements. The prayers of every true child 
of God will be as ministering spirits around thy 
path, to defend and comfort and sustain. Didst 
thou realize that such would be the aid afforded 
to thy weakness, wouldst thou longer hesitate ? 
But thou dost not realize this. Nor canst thou, 
till thou hast actually entered on the way of du- 
ty. These are the encouragements and helps of 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 



67 



the way. They do not precede, but accompany, 
effort, and how canst thou experience them till 
thou hast put thyself in that condition to which 
they are promised ? Cast off, then, thy fears of 
failure ; and in the sincerity of an honest pur- 
pose, and relying on the promised aid of the Al- 
mighty One, enter resolutely on the path of re- 
ligious duty, and so sure as God lives his aid 
will not be withheld. " Awake, thou that sleep- 
est, and arise from the dead, and then Christ 
shall give thee light." He will give it thee as 
thy need requires, and according to thy day shall 
be thy strength. Here, then, I repeat, is a mo- 
tive so full of encouragement as to be sufficient 
to incite us to enter at once on the religions life. 
It is the promise of all needed assistance. 

But it may help us to understand more definite- 
ly the value of this promise, to consider what is 
implied by the light which is here offered. The 
light which Christ imparts by his gospel is the light 
of truth. It is the truth as he is the truth, and it 
sheds the pure light of truth on the character of 
God, on man's present duty, and on his final des- 
tination. It reveals God to us in the character 
of a father, not merely because he created us and 
provides for our sustenance, but because he takes 
a parental interest in our welfare, and is solici- 
tous for our happiness. Never before Christ did 



68 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 



men's conceptions of Deity wear these beautiful 
features. Never before Christ did the image of 
a father's love and care present itself as the most 
fitting emblem of the divine character. Yet 
this is the emblem on which Christ delighted 
to present the Deity. He ever spoke of him as a 
father, he ever addressed him in prayer as a fa- 
ther, and he illustrated the principles of his gov- 
ernment by the regard of a father for his child- 
ren. 

Again. The gospel of Christ sheds the light 
of truth on man's present duty. It declares, that, 
as the government over us is parental, so should 
our obedience be filial ; not that of a slave to his 
master, or of an oppressed subject to his tyrant 
ruler, but of a child to his parent, — the obedi- 
ence of the heart, flowing out in love, gratitude, 
trust, — the obedience which in itself is happi- 
ness, and therefore looks not beyond itself for 
its reward. It is a reasonable, sincere, and vol- 
untary service, such as is always cheerfully ren- 
dered when the heart is in it, and which by its 
reaction on the heart cherishes and matures 
those virtues and graces in which a pure and 
godly character consists. 

Once more. The gospel of Christ sheds the 
light of truth on man's final destination. It de- 
clares this to be not an arbitrary appointment, 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 



69 



but a natural consequence. The eternity which 
it reveals will be a state of happiness or suffer- 
ing, of joy or of woe, to each individual, accord- 
ing as the character he carries with him into that 
state is holy or unholy. There is therefore no 
room for any complaint of injustice, since each 
one virtually pronounces his own sentence of 
judgment, and takes that place for which he has 
been voluntarily preparing himself. Thus does 
the eternal destination of each one grow out of 
the actual character, — the precise state of prep- 
aration in which each one enters the world of 
spirits. 

Such, in brief, is the light which Christ gives 
to all who will put themselves under its guid- 
ance. It shows the character of God in a light 
fitted to draw to itself the purest affections of the 
heart. It shows that his service is a happy ser- 
vice, — the obedience of a grateful child to the 
kindest of parents. And it shows that the hap- 
piness of that obedience is preparatory to the in- 
finite happiness of the spiritual world. How 
great, then, are the inducements to engage in the 
work of religion, to which my text calls us ! 
How reasonable is that work seen to be ! And 
how full of encouragement and hope ! Accord- 
ing to the sincerity and earnestness in which it 
is engaged in will be the reward of joy and 



\ 



70 SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 

peace in believing. Again, then, I say, " Awake, 
thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead ! " If 
ever thou intendest to do any thing for thy soul, 
do it now. Thou hast no security for thy hopes 
unless thou wilt begin to secure them now. Re- 
pent now, if thou wouldst be saved. Thy soul's 
eternal welfare depends on present action, not on 
promised amendment. 

Thy soul's eternal Avelfare. Weigh well the 
words, — consider their meaning. Think if the 
duty to which they point is not the most impor- 
tant, the most pressing, which can engage thine 
attention. It is the very work of life, — the 
very purpose for which God created thee, and 
placed thee amidst the disciplinary arrangements 
of this earthly being. On the manner in which 
thou doest that work depends thy fitness for 
death and judgment, — thy qualification for eter- 
nity. My brethren, these are not mere words, — 
nor are they spoken merely because this is a pul- 
pit, and 1 am preaching. No ; there is meaning in 
them, — deep, solemn meaning. And he only is 
wise, who understands and feels that meaning, — 
feels it in his soul, — so feels it that it controls his 
aff'ections and guides his life. O, would to God 
that you might all so feel it ! Would that you 
might now and at once open your hearts to the 
influence of holy truth, so that you might real- 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 71 

ize the wretchedness of your condition so long 
as you neglect your souls' salvation, so long as 
you continue in a state of spiritual sleep and 
death, and will not awake and arise to duty and 
life in Christ ! But you know that this state 
cannot continue much longer. You know that 
every hour you live, that every breath you draw, 
shortens by so much the time given you in 
which to awake to newness of life. How rapid- 
ly, then, and how surely, is that hour drawing 
near when you can no longer sleep ! Then shall 
that voice be sounded forth which you must 
hear and obey, whose piercing tones shall sink 
into your inmost being, and startle you from 
your insensibility, and break up that death-sleep 
in which your souls have been so carelessly re- 
posing, and you will come forth — to what ? To 
that condition precisely for which you have pre- 
pared yourselves. And by no possibility can 
that condition be one of happiness if preceded by 
a life of religious insensibility and unconcern; or 
rather, if such has been the life, that condition 
must inevitably be misery and woe. So do I 
read the laws of our spiritual nature, and the in- 
structions of Christianity, and the only way to 
avoid that misery is to forsake now the way that 
leads to it. I put this matter, then, to your rea- 
son. I will use no tender exhortation, no soft 



72 



SPIRITUAL INSENSIBILITY. 



entreaty now, though our blessed religion is full 
of them. I put this matter to your own reason, 
and say, Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise 
from the dead," and begin the religious life now, 
— or take the uttermost hazard of perdition. 



SERMON II. 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 

HE THAT REJECTETH ME, AND RECEIVETH NOT MY WORDS, 
HATH ONE THAT JUDGETH HIM ; THE WORDS THAT I HAVE 
SPOKEN, THE SAME SHALL JUDGE HIM IN THE LAST DAY. 

— John xii. 48. 

There is a very prevalent idea, that it is a 
matter left to our own option how far we shall 
subject ourselves to religious influences, — to 
what degree we shall allow the spirit and princi- 
ples of Christianity to control our lives. It is 
thought that so long as we do not choose or pro- 
fess to make that control supreme over us, we 
may disregard it with impunity, or at least, that 
we shall not be called to account, if our life or 
character is no worse than our profession, — if 
we do not come short of our assumed moral 
standard. This idea is, I think, very prevalent. 
I see evidences of it in the distinctions that are 
made in the degree of virtue or goodness expect- 



74 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



ed of different persons ; which distinctions cor- 
respond with their supposed differences of moral 
position. Here, for example, is one class of men 
who occupy the position of ministers of the 
gospel. They are teachers of religious truth 
and duty. Their business is to present that 
truth to other men, by the offices which pertain 
to their position. They are set apart for this 
express purpose, and opportunity is afforded 
them to devote their time and attention to the 
requisite preparation for, and discharge of, this 
object. It is expected, therefore, that they who 
make religion the study of their lives, and place 
themselves before the world as its avowed ex- 
positors and advocates, will be under the habit- 
ual influence of religion ; that they will be men 
of sound piety and pure morals ; that religion 
will be preached by their example as by their 
words, — the one illustrating and confirming the 
other. Here is another class of persons who are 
professors of religion. They have acknowledged 
publicly, and by a solemn religious act, their 
obligation to live in conformity to the requisi- 
tions of the gospel. They profess to take Jesus 
for their teacher, and his example for their mod- 
el. They acknowledge that his commands are 
binding upon them ; that it is their duty to obey 
them, as possessing supreme authority. It is 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



75 



expected, therefore, that these persons will be 
faithful to their obligations ; that they will not 
only avoid the vices and sins of the world, 
but practise steadfastly and strictly the virtues of 
the Christian character ; that they will be, and 
will do, what a consistent regard to their profes- 
sion renders indispensable. Now, with regard to 
these expectations, the first thing to be said is, 
that they are neither unreasonable, nor unfound- 
ed. They grow out of the very nature of the 
case ; they are but one manifestation of that 
universal and perfectly just principle, that every 
man should have a full and experimental knowl- 
edge of the business in which he professes to 
engage. 

It is right, then, it is perfectly right, that the 
Christian minister should be a man of pure, 
fervent piety and virtue. Holy and blameless 
should he be who stands as an ambassador of 
Christ. His character and life should be the 
true embodiment of Christian faith, love, and 
duty, — a living example of the practical elfects 
which the religion is designed and fitted to pro- 
duce. And the obligation is no less imperative 
on all professors of religion to manifest the pow- 
er and influence of Christian principles. The 
rules of duty which Christ has prescribed are 
the rules by which they are to be governed. 



76 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



He is the Master they have chosen to obey, and 
their obedience must be strict in principle, and 
in practice faithful and constant. Their stand- 
ard of character is not that of the world, or of 
the community in which they live, so that they 
may be satisfied if they are as good as other 
men about them. Their standard of character 
is the character of Christ. And they are faith- 
less to their professed obligations so far as they 
fall short of a steady and consistent approximation 
to that standard. Disgraceful is it to the Chris- 
tian profession, when that profession is only a 
name, and its only mark of distinction is the ob- 
servance of an outward rite. The fidelity which 
it requires is deeper than the surface of life. It 
is a baptism of the spirit into holiness, purity, 
and love ; it is an earnest striving for the stature 
of perfect men in Christ Jesus. 

We mast acknowledge, then, the correctness 
of the common opinion, that Christian ministers 
and Christian professors should be persons dis- 
tinguished for piety and excellence of character. 
There is a manifest obligation upon them to 
conform their principles and their conduct to 
the standard of the gospel, and the life of Christ. 
It is an obligation which no circumstances can 
disannul, and no human power remit. It is 
binding always and everywhere, and its requisi- 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



77 



tions are equally imperative under all circum- 
stances. 

And having made this acknowledgment, let 
us now consider the source, the authority, of 
that obligation. Does it grow out of the posi- 
tion which Christian ministers and Christian 
professors occupy ? This is the prevailing sen- 
timent. It is thought and said, that ministers 
and professors of religion must be persons of 
piety and virtue, because they are ministers and 
professors. The question is, then, does this ob- 
ligation rest on that ground ? Most clearly not. 
It belongs to them as Christians. It grows out 
of the fact that they live under that dispensa- 
tion of religion which Christ established, and 
not at all from the social condition in which 
they are placed. I stand before you as a Chris- 
tian minister, a teacher of religious truth and 
duty ; and am received and acknowledged by 
you in that capacity. You expect, therefore, 
that my conduct and character shall harmonize 
with the principles of piety and righteousness 
which I here inculcate. But consider on what 
ground you cherish such expectations. Your 
contract with me contains no obligation to that 
effect ; nor have I ever made you any promises 
of that character. And yet such are your ex- 
pectations ; and so reasonable and just are they, 



78 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



in your estimation, that you would account any 
immorality on my part a sufficient cause for the 
dissolution of our connection. These expecta- 
tions of yours do not, then, grow out of the po- 
sition which I occupy. They reach deeper than 
that. They spring from the conviction that I 
am under the influence of higher obligations 
than those which pertain merely to my official 
standing, — that I should be faithful to my duty 
to God, which, in the position I occupy, in- 
volves my duty to you. This is the true ground 
of your expectations from, and your confidence 
in, your minister. If any one is disposed to 
doubt this, then let me ask, is he whose only or 
principal motive and obligation to sustain a rep- 
utation for piety and virtue arises from the cir- 
cumstance that he holds an office which makes 
such a reputation indispensable to him, is that 
man fit to be a Christian minister ? Would you 
have him for your minister ? No. And nothing 
can be more absurd and unchristian than the 
idea so generally prevalent, that it is a man's po- 
sition in society, his being a minister or a pro- 
fessor of religion, that m.akes the obligations of 
Christianity bear upon him with peculiar force. 
No. You may take me from this Christian pul- 
pit, this place of deserved respect, and honor- 
able responsibility, than which, morally regard- 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



79 



edj none on earth is higher, and put me in the 
very lowest and most degraded situation known 
to man, even that which places me behind the 
counter of a rum-shop, — than which, morally re- 
garded, none on earth is lower, — and you have 
not changed my relations to the laws of Chris- 
tian truth and duty. Even there am I equally 
bound to observe with the strictest fidelity the 
rules of righteousness which Christ has estab- 
lished. And to every situation between those 
two extremes does that obligation extend equal- 
ly and unconditionally. The obligation that 
binds the Christian minister and the Christian 
professor to religious obedience binds every man, 
and for the same reasons, too. Because that ob- 
ligation does not grow out of the office or the 
profession, but exists previous to all profession, 
and independent of and paramount over all cir- 
cumstances. The two extremes of human con- 
dition which I have mentioned include, of 
course, all the situations in which men are 
found. And therefore to men in every situation 
and circumstance is the obligation imperative 
and unchangeable to live in strict accordance 
with the demands of religion. And no man can 
say. Because I am not a professor of religion, I 
am not bound by Christian duty. That duty is 
laid upon every man by the gospel of Christ, — 



80 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



upon every man, be his condition what it may, 
who lives under the light of the gospel, — and 
therefore every man will be* judged by his con- 
formity to that duty. This is the sentiment 
that pervades all the teachings of Christ, and is 
directly and especially announced in the declara- 
tion of my text. ''He that rejecteth me, and 
receiveth not my words, hath one that judgeth 
him ; the word that I have spoken, that shall 
judge him in the last day." What though a 
man says, I have made no profession of Chris- 
tianity, and therefore I am not bound to a strict 
obedience to its demands ? The obligation to 
obedience is not to be got rid of on that pre- 
tence. Christ hath spoken to you the words of 
truth, and righteousness, and life, — he hath es- 
tablished for you the great rule of duty by which 
your life must be governed, and though you do 
reject it, and will not receive it, that neverthe- 
less is the rule by which you shall be judged in 
the last day. 

Here is a principle set before us, my friends, 
which deserves our deepest and most serious 
consideration, and all the more so, as it is so 
generally n eglected. One great and manifest 
cause of this neglect is that most false and dan- 
gerous sentiment on which I have remarked, 
that so long as we do not choose or profess to 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



81 



be disciples of Christ, we are not bound to obey 
his commands. So false and dangerous do I re- 
gard this sentiment, that I would press it ear- 
nestly on your attention, as one of the greatest 
obstacles that now impede the rise and progress 
of religion ia the soul ; so long as it prevails, it 
necessarily defeats the purpose of Christ's mis- 
sion, it makes his religion a thing of circum- 
stances and position, without auy intrinsic au- 
thority or obligation. 

This sentiment is, as I said, opposed by the 
general strain of the gospel, and directly and ex- 
plicitly by the words of my text. For if, as my 
text asserts, we must be judged by the religion 
of Christ, even though we should reject it, then 
most certainly is that the standard of our duty 
and obligation. To prepare for the allotments 
of that final judgment which will be passed on 
every man is the great purpose of this proba- 
tionary existence. All the discipline which we 
are here called to endure is appointed with direct 
reference to that event. And the gospel of 
Christ is intended to teach us how to use and 
improve the varied discipline of life, so that its 
great object shall be accomplished by us. As, 
then, no one can make his peculiar circumstances 
a plea for not being arraigned at that judgment, 
neither can he make those circums^aLces a plea 
6 



82 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



for not preparing for it. And as there is no ad- 
equate means of preparation for it but a strict 
and constant obedience to the will of God as 
proclaimed by the gospel of his Son, therefore 
is that obedience the manifest and unqualified 
duty of every man, whatever be his circum- 
stances. Think of this, ye who say, I have 
never professed Christianity, I have never be- 
come interested in religion, and therefore I may 
disregard its obligations with impunity. How 
will this plea be received when you stand be- 
fore that tribunal where your lives will be re- 
viewed by the eye of Omniscience, and that 
judgment passed upon you from which there is 
no evasion or escape. The standard of duty 
which will be the rule of that judgment is 
plainly declared to you in the gospel. What 
though you do reject it now on the plea that you 
have not chosen to consider its obligations bind- 
ing on you. How utterly useless that plea will 
then be found, you may learn from this declara- 
tion of Christ : — "He that rejecteth me, and 
receiveth not my words, hath one that judgeth 
him ; the word that I have spoken, that shall 
judge him at the last day." He that rejecteth 
that word shall nevertheless be judged by it. 

And is it not perfectly reasonable that Christ's 
gospel should be the rule of that judgment ? 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



83 



That which is given by divine authority to be 
the guide of life is surely worthy to be the judge 
of life. The gospel is the rule by which we 
are to be governed in our spiritual relations, just 
as the law of the land is the rule which is to 
govern us in our civil relations. If a foreigner 
resides in our land, though he take no oath of 
allegiance to our government, yet is he bound to 
obey the laAV of the land as much as any of its 
citizens, and if he transgresses that law, by 
that law he is judged and condemned. This is 
just and reasonable, notwithstanding he is under 
no oath of allegiance. Equally reasonable is it, 
that he who is a citizen of the visible kingdom 
of Christ, who lives under the light of the gos- 
pel, should obey the laws of the gospel ; and 
if faithless to his religious duty should be judged 
by the gospel, notwithstanding he has made no 
profession of Christianity. O, what a fickle and 
uncertain guide, how wholly unworthy of its 
pretensions to divine authority, would be our re- 
ligion were it left to our option to decide wheth- 
er we should subject ourselves to its influence or 
not ! Such a religion would deserve, and should 
receive, contempt, rather than respect, — scorn, 
rather than obedience. Beware, then, my friends, 
lest any of you treat it as if it were that fickle 
and contemptible thing. And remember also 



84 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



that you do thus tr^t it, so far as you consider 
its obligations not binding on you because you 
have not made a religious profession. And such 
cannot, in any sense, be a trivial offence. For 
he that despiseth Christ's religion despiseth 
Christ, and he that despiseth Christ despiseth 
God who sent him. And whoso shall deny 
Christ before men, him will Christ deny before 
his Father who is in heaven. 

The reasonableness of the doctrine of my text 
may be shown in another light. You are a pa- 
rent, and you require of your child a respectful 
and implicit obedience to your will. This re- 
quisition is not only reasonable and just, but, in 
the relation which you sustain, indispensable. 
The order and comfort of domestic life cannot 
be preserved without it, nor can the great moral 
purposes which the family relation is designed 
to promote be accomplished where this is disre- 
garded. But suppose that your child says, I have 
never made a profession of obedience to you, 
I have never taken upon me any obligation that 
requires me to regard your commands more than 
those of any other man, and therefore I do not 
consider myself bound to any particular compli- 
ance with your requisitions. What then would 
be your reply ? Would you not say. Your obli- 
gations to obey me are a part of the very nature 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



85 



of things ; they belong to the relations of life as 
established by divine appointment. They exist, 
therefore, prior to, and independent of, all pro- 
fession on your part, and, whether you acknowl- 
edge them or not, they are binding upon you, 
and no power on earth can release you from 
them so long as I am faithful to my parental 
duty. Such is the principle which every parent 
is fully authorized to assert, and such is the prin- 
ciple, whether he asserts it in words or not, on 
which every parent acts when he claims the 
obedience of his child, and on which he judges 
and punishes all filial disobedience. And as this 
is perfectly reasonable in the relation in which 
our children stand to us, so is it equally so in 
the relation in which we stand to God. He is 
our Father. His right to our obedience is su- 
preme. The religion which he has given us by 
Jesus Christ prescribes the manner in which 
that obedience is to be rendered. There are his 
commands proclaimed, there is the expression of 
his will by which we are required to govern our- 
selves. What, then, though we do say we have 
made no profession of that religion, we have 
never acknowledged our obligations to obey it. 
The answer must be, your obligations are prior 
to, and independent of, all profession. They 
grow out of the very relations that exist between 



86 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



you and your God, and there is no power able 
to absolve you from those obligations so long as 
there is a God. You may reject them if you 
see fit, but that rejection does not release you 
from the responsibility they impose on you. 
That responsibility you cannot shake off by any 
thing that you may do, or refuse to do. It per- 
tains to you as a moral and religious being ; it is a 
necessary consequence of the nature with which 
you are endowed, and the means afforded you 
for training up that nature to its appointed desti- 
nation. Until, therefore, you can change your 
nature, you cannot divest yourself of its obliga- 
tion and accountability. It is simply as the pos- 
sessor of that nature that the gospel of Christ is 
addressed to you ; therefore are you bound to 
obey it, because it is the word of God, who gave 
you your nature, teaching you how that nature 
is to be employed ; and though you do not 
choose to acknowledge it, and make no profes- 
sion of obedience to it, that will not save you 
from being judged and condemned by it at the 
last day. 

My friends, I beseech you to take this subject 
into your serious consideration. Think, I pray 
you, how utterly unreasonable and unfounded is 
the presumption, that you are not under obliga- 
tions to religious obedience merely because you 



RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION. 



87 



do not acknowledge or profess them. Is it any- 
thing less than saying, I am not bound to obey 
God, because I do not choose to obey him ? But 
are the divine obligations to be disposed of by a 
plea which would not avail any thing to justify 
the neglect of human obligations, nay, which 
you yourself would reject with scorn as an ex- 
cuse for disobedience in your children or depend- 
ents? So far, then, as any of you have allowed 
this most unreasonable presumption to influence 
you, be induced now to regard it in its true 
light. The obligations that bind you to reli- 
gious obedience are the very same that bind all 
other men, whether they be professors of reli- 
gion or not. It is not what any man professes 
or does not profess, that gives him favor in the 
sight of God. It is simply what he is, — what 
he is in his spirit and in his life. What that 
spirit and life should be, God has plainly de- 
clared to us, and to one as much as to another, 
by the gospel of Christ. He, then, that rejects 
that gospel, and will not receive it as the guide 
of life, does so at his peril, — at peril of his eter- 
nal salvation ; for by that gospel will he be con- 
demned at the last day. 



SERMON III. 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 

THE KINGDOM OF GOD COMETH NOT WITH OBSERVATION ; NEI- 
THER SHALL THEY SAY, LO HERE ! OR LO THERE ! FOR 
BEHOLD THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS WITHIN YOU. — Luke Xvii. 

20, 21. 

These words were spoken by our Lord in or- 
der to correct an opinion then prevalent, that the 
establishment of the kingdom of God would be 
marked by great changes in the external world, 
in the constitution of society, and by appearan- 
ces which might be witnessed by the bodily eye, 
and which would attract universal attention and 
observation. It was thought that the coming of 
that kingdom would be betokened by wonders 
in heaven above and signs in the earth beneath, 
by revolutions in the governments and nations 
of the world, and especially by the restoration of 
kingly power to Judea, with the proudest pomp 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



89 



and circumstance of royalty, and the subjection 
of all other kingdoms to its supremacy. As a 
natural consequence of these views, all attention 
was turned in an outward direction. Men were 
looking for the visible signs and appearances 
which they might hail as the forerunners of the 
period they were so anxiously awaiting, and of 
which they might say, Lo here ! or Lo there ! the 
kingdom of God has come ! 

We, my friends, have the best reasons for be- 
lieving that those views were wholly founded in 
error. We know that the kingdom of God has 
no connection with the splendor and show of 
regal grandeur, or with any manifestations of 
earthly glory and greatness ; that, in fine, it does 
not pertain to the outward and visible, so as to 
be recognized by the bodily senses, or estimated 
by any of the standards which are applied to 
temporal success and prosperity. We know that 
its glory is moral glory, that its power is spiritu- 
al power ; and that the proofs of its establish- 
ment are a heart right with God, and a life of 
obedience to his will, and that the signs of its 
growth and spread are found in increased fidel- 
ity to all the duties of the Christian profession. 
Such are our views of the kingdom of God, and 
thus do they differ from those which the words 
of my text were immediately designed to cor- 
rect. 



90 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



I doubt not that the views of the kingdom of 
God which I have now expressed would be as- 
sented to by all Christians of the present day ; 
but I cannot help thinking that these are not all 
the views that are now held on this subject. 
To judge from what may be seen and heard, 
there is a large admixture of worldliness in the 
prevalent conceptions of the kingdom of God, 
a leaven of human fancy and sentiment, which 
goes far to vitiate or nullify whatever of truth 
may pertain to those views. Feelings similar 
to those which prevailed in the time of Christ 
have but too much influence now, and it is too 
frequently the practice of Christians now to look 
for merely outward signs, saying, Lo here! or Lo 
there ! and supposing that the kingdom of God 
consists in this observable show. And thus they 
are led to consider themselves as members of 
that kingdom, if they take any part in those out- 
ward appearances. This is the practical and 
evil result of such wrong sentiments. It is a re- 
sult that easily and naturally takes place. The 
Jews of old supposed that the establishment of 
the Messiah's kingdom over them would, of it- 
self, make them its members, and entitle them 
to all its privileges, without any change in their 
moral dispositions, and sentiments, and charac- 
ters. And so it would have been, had that king- 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



91 



dom been such as they expected. For an out- 
ward, temporal kingdom would of course require 
no internal, spiritual change to fit men to become 
its subjects. So in our own case, if we are ac- 
customed to dwell mainly on the outward and 
visible relations of the kingdom of God, it is per- 
fectly natural that we consider ourselves as be- 
longing to that kingdom, mainly because of our 
connection with its outward institutions. But as 
that kingdom is internal and spiritual, such a 
connection cannot give a sufficient ground for 
claiming membership with it. That claim can 
be adequately sustained only by the fulfilment 
of the conditions which the laws of the kingdom 
demand of all its subjects. What those condi- 
tions are, no one can have the least doubt who 
reads the New Testament with due care. Nor 
can he any more doubt that they refer, not to 
outward circumstances, but to the state of the 
heart, having it right with God ; to the culti- 
vation of a pure spirit, having it like the spirit of 
Jesus ; and to the enthronement in the soul of 
those principles, sentiments, and motives which 
combine to form a holy character ; or, to express 
the whole idea in the comprehensive words of 
our Lord, the kingdom of God is within you. 

It is this view which, though so obvious to 
every attentive reader of the gospel, is, I think, 



92 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



too much disregarded at the present day. There- 
fore I would direct attention to it at this time, 
trusting that it may receive the consideration 
which its importance demands. ^ 

The expressions "kingdom of God" and 
kingdom of heaven," and other similar expres- 
sions, are always used in the gospel in the same 
sense, as denoting the Christian dispensation or 
the religion of Christ, — that kingdom of right- 
eousness, peace, and spiritual joy of which Jesus 
Christ is the divinely appointed king and head. 
Now there are manifestly two general aspects in 
which this kingdom may be regarded, and which, 
though they are entirely distinct from each oth- 
er, are very frequently confounded together. 
And it is the want of discrimination in these as- 
pects that most commonly leads to the practical 
error of which I have spoken, namely, regarding 
ourselves as members of Christ's kingdon because 
of our connection with its outward institutions. 

The first of these aspects is that expressed by 
our Lord in the words, " The kingdom of God is 
within you." It is the internal reception and 
adoption of certain principles, affections, and sen- 
timents. It is the dominion of righteousness, 
truth, and love, — the reigning of God in the 
heart. It includes all those and only those who 
have Christ formed within them, the hope of 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



93 



glory. It cannot be limited within any barriers 
by which human will may seek to confine it. 
It is coextensive with that holy spirit which is 
at once the proof and expression of its existence, 
and the pledge and support of its perpetuity. It 
was said of the Founder of this kingdom, as one 
oj the marks by which he would be distinguish- 
ed, — "He shall baptize with the holy spirit." 
And that baptism did not cease when he ascend- 
ed from earth to his Father in heaven. His disci- 
ples were not left comfortless, as they would have 
been without it. It has remained to sanctify and 
bless the hearts of all the faithful in Christ, — 
a divine baptism into the spirit of truth, holiness, 
and love. It has remained a bond of sacred un- 
ion to all his followers, a gracious answer and ful- 
filment of his prayer, — " As thou, Father, art in 
me and I in tlXee, so may they also be one in us." 
And it is this baptism of the spirit whose unseen 
influence still holds together as one all of every 
name and nation and condition under heaven in 
whose souls its power is experienced. Here is 
the true kingdom of God, confined by no party 
walls, limited to no human name, circumscribed 
by no geographical boundaries, but inclosing in 
its wide embrace, aiid admitting to its equal priv- 
ileges, every genuine disciple of the Lord Jesus 
Christ, wherever over all the earth he may be 



94 



THE KINGDOM OP GOD. 



found, and by whatever forms he may worship 
God in spirit and in truth. This is the only 
true kingdom of God, the spiritual body of Christ, 
of which he is the king and head. It was to 
this aspect of his kingdom that our Lord refer- 
red when he said, The kingdom of God is with- 
in you." The seat of its power is in the soul.^ 

Now it is obvious that, in this aspect, the 
kingdom of God is invisible. Its actual extent 
and boundaries, its existence and progress within 
each soul, are seen by no other eye but His who 
looketh on the heart. It can be, then, only so 
far as we are approved by him, only so far as his 
eye sees, that we are really controlled by those 
principles, affections, and sentiments in which 
his kingdom consists, that we are its true sub- 
jects. Whatever we may think of ourselves, 
and in whatever estimation we may be held by 
our fellow-men, who can see only the outward 
appearance, we do and can belong to his king- 
dom only so far as we have the spirit of Christ. 
As this is the true test of membership in the 
kingdom of God, and as God alone knows who 
can abide this test, it follows that he alone 
knows who are the actual members of his king- 
dom, or, in other words, that this kingdom is in- 
visible to every eye but his. 

Yet there is another aspect in which this 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



95 



kingdom may be considered, and in which we 
may regard it as visible. It is visible in the 
means by which it is set up and extended. 
Wherever the inspired oracles hold forth their 
light, wherever the living servant of Christ bids 
men repent and believe, and says to them, the 
kingdom of God is come nigh unto you ; and 
wherever there is the outward worship of God, 
who is a spirit, there the kingdom of God is vis- 
ible. Wherever a family comes together in the 
name and as disciples of Jesus Christ, to pre- 
sent upon the domestic altar the sacrifice of 
united prayer and thanksgiving to the God and 
Father of all the families of earth, there the 
kingdom of God is visible. Wherever a Chris- 
tian society is assembled, in whatever place, and 
under whatever circumstances, to engage in ser- 
vices of divine worship, there the kingdom of 
God is visible. Wherever a company of be- 
lievers gather around the table of their Lord, to 
strengthen their remembrance of him in the way 
of his appointment; and wherever parents for 
their children, or individuals for themselves, re- 
ceive the water of Christian baptism, in what- 
ever mode administered, there the kingdom of 
God is visible. It is visible in all the agencies 
and institutions which are the fruits of Christian 
influence, — in all societies and associations for 



96 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



the relief of poverty and distress, or for the pro- 
motion of the moral, intellectual, or physical 
welfare of man. Every house of worship, ev- 
ery hospital, every asylum for the unfortunate or 
the destitute, is a visible manifestation of the 
kingdom of God. And so also is every act of 
charity, generosity, or disinterestedness, every 
deed of mercy, and every labor of love, when 
prompted by religious principle. 

We may thus understand the two aspects un- 
der which the kingdom of God may be regard- 
ed, — the one inward and invisible, the other 
outward and visible. It is of the utmost impor- 
tance to keep in mind the distinction thus 
shown. By overlooking this distinction, we 
shall inevitably fall into great and manifest er- 
rors. The true kingdom of God is, of course, 
the inward and invisible. It is the dominion of 
righteousness, piety, faith, in the heart. The 
possession of the virtues and principles that con- 
stitute the Christian character make us its true 
subjects. In this consists our only claim to its 
privileges, and comforts, and rewards. Yet how 
prone are we to consider ourselves its subjects, 
and entitled to its benefits, on the mere ground 
of connection with its outward and visible as- 
pect ! If we do our part towards supporting its 
ministers and its institutions, if we attend on its 



1 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



97 



services, and go with the multitude to keep its 
holy days, and especially if we enrol our names 
among those of its professed members, and unite 
with them in observing its ordinances and ap- 
pointments, do we not, by these outward acts, 
look upon ourselves as belonging to the kingdom 
of God, and thereby entitled to the divine favor ? 
Yet are these outward acts by no means to be 
disregarded or neglected. They are, when right- 
ly improved, the means of establishing within 
us the true kingdom of God. They are modes 
of exercising, and thereby strengthening, the vir- 
tues of which that kingdom is formed. Every 
deed of kindness wrought for the temporal or 
spiritual benefit of our fellow- men sends back 
its good influence to our own hearts, and so is 
instrumental in promoting our moral improve- 
ment ; and so, too, and more abundantly, is every 
act of worship, and every religious service. But 
whatever benefits may accrue to ourselves or to 
others from these outward acts, let us never re- 
gard them as giving us a claim of membership 
in the kingdom of God. That kingdom cometh 
not with observation, does not consist of the vis- 
ible and external, of which we may say, Lo here ! 
or Lo there ! These outward acts, so far as they 
result from a sincere and truthful spirit, are signs 
of the kingdom ; — they show that it has come, 



98 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



are the proofs and effects, but not the essence, of 
its establishment. The essence is the state of 
the inner man, a heart filled with the spirit of 
Christ. It is a state or condition of the soul, 
when the faculties with which the Creator has 
gifted it are in full exercise, in accordance with 
the will of its Creator ; when its capacities are 
developed in natural order and proportion ; when 
its powers are rightly balanced, and in harmoni- 
ous operation ; when the entire man exists, feels, 
thinks, and acts in accordance with nature, prov- 
idence, and revelation ; or, in other words, the 
kingdom of God within is the constant presence 
and complete operation of religion in the heart, 
enlightening, warming, quickening, sanctifying, 
strengthening, and perfecting the whole inner 
man. By no other way can we be true subjects 
of this kingdom, but by enthroning the religion 
of Christ, in its purity and power, in its rightful 
and required seat in the heart. The religion of 
Christ is the kingdom of Christ and of God. 
Not what too frequently passes for religion, — 
the observance of outward forms and services, 
the belief of certain doctrines, or the adoption 
of a particular name ; but that religion which is 
a reflection and expression of the mind and life 
of Christ, and makes the believer one with 
Christ in affection and in duty. The religion of 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



99 



divine principles and feelings, of heavenward de- 
sires and aspirations, of faithful self-consecration 
and earnest strivings for spiritual growth and per- 
fection. The religion that manifests itself not in 
barren speculation, but in profitable reflections ; 
not in transient emotion, but in permanent affec- 
tion ; not in periodical and local service alone, 
but in constant and universal obedience. The 
religion of the mind, guiding its powers in the 
study and knowledge of the divine will and 
character, that it may grow in grace, in wisdom, 
and righteousness. The religion of the heart, 
subduing all its affections to the love of God in 
Christ, pudfying and refining the moral senti- 
ments, and putting the whole soul in unison with 
truth, goodness, and purity, wherever they are 
found. The religion of the life, going about 
with the Saviour doing good, manifesting its 
sympathy with human welfare not only by kind 
words, but also by generous deeds, carrying its 
influence into all the relations of life, whether 
of business, of duty, or enjoyment, and using 
all events as teachers of new wisdom, and means 
of a new advance in piety and virtue. 

Such, my friends, is a faint outline of the 
kingdom of God within us, in so far as we are 
worthy of our religion. How beautiful, how 
glorious, are its characteristics ! It is all we were 



100 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



created to be ; all that we should wish to be- 
come ; all that can secure respect, love, joy, and 
hope here ; all that fits us for honor, glory, and 
happiness hereafter. It is not local and external, 
but inward, and confined to no space. It is not 
perishable, like material things, but enduring as 
the spirit itself within us, so that we cannot lose 
it so long as we are holy, to whatever place in 
God's universe we may be removed. It cometh 
not with observation, as the Jews expected, in 
the splendors of the outward world, which in 
their very nature are transient ; but it comes se- 
cretly, silently, and for permanent enjoyment, in 
the hidden depths of the soul, lifting up the 
thoughts, spreading out the affections, and reach- 
ing forth the desires to God and goodness. It 
is not that of which we may for the moment say, 
Lo here ! or Lo there ! and then find nothing in 
it any longer to interest us ; but that of which we 
may affirm, it is everywhere and always, just in 
proportion as the heart and life are sanctified by 
its influences. It is not that for which we must 
wait till death to enjoy it, but it is a good of which 
we may begin to taste the moment the love of 
God, and man, and duty finds a place within us ; 
for the kingdom of heaven commences on earth 
when moral excellence commences, and it is per- 
fected in the life after death, wherever God may 
choose that we shall continue in existence. 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 



101 



Such, again, is the kingdom of God as it ex- 
ists in the hearts of its true subjects. Yes, the 
heart of the Christian is the kingdom of God. 
No other locahty, no other place on earth or in 
heaven, does that kingdom claim to have. It is 
within us, or for us it is nowhere. How unut- 
terably important, then, if we would partake of 
its blessedness, that we strive to establish it 
within us, remembering that we belong to it 
only so far as we have the spirit of its King, 
since he that hath not the spirit of Christ is 
none of his. 



SERMOxN lY. 



TRUE LIFE. 

MAN SHALL NOT LIVE BY BREAD ALONE, BUT BY EVERY WORD 
THAT PROCEEDETH OUT OF THE MOUTH OF GOD. Matt. iv. 4. 

These words make a part of the account of 
the temptation of our Lord in the wilderness, — 
that expressive scene, in which were prefigured 
to him the trials that were to be his constant at- 
tendants during his earthly ministry, and by 
which he was prepared to meet and subdue 
them. As he was tempted in all points like as 
we are, and yet without sin, it becomes us, his 
followers, to arm ourselves with the same mind 
that was in him, that we may meet our trials as 
he did, only to overcome them. And the world 
in which we live is one continued trial scene to 
us. The flesh lusteth against the spirit, and 
the spirit against the flesh, and these are contra- 
ry the one to the other." Hence arises the great 



TRUE LIFE. 



103 



moral contest in which every human being is 
placed, and on the issue of which rests his eter- 
nal condition. True it is, and no less sad than 
true, that many fail in this contest of accom- 
plishing a spiritual triumph, — that many are 
brought under subjection to the things that per- 
ish, — that, without even a show of resistance, 
yea, even with willing mind and eager desire, 
multitudes yield themselves captives to that love 
of the world which worketh death. Thus is it 
with too many of us, my friends, nay, in some 
measure, no doubt, with all of us. We live too 
much for "the world and the things of the 
world," — too much for earth and its material 
objects, — too much for the body and the grati- 
fication of its appetites. We think that we can 
live by bread alone ; by that which fe^ds and 
sustains the animal nature, by contributing to 
its pleasures and indulging its propensities. Our 
labor is too much for the meat which perisheth, 
and which can nourish that only which is also 
perishable, forgetful of that bread of heaven 
which is able to nourish the soul for everlasting 
life. I am not saying this to censure a proper care 
of the earthly life, its wants, its conveniences and 
comforts. Every creature of God is good, and 
to be received with thanksgiving, — and if de- 
serving of thanks to the giver, then also of labor 



104 



TRUE LIFE. 



for its acquisition. The comforts of life, — the 
means of enjoyment, — the pleasures which are 
strewed in our pathway, — are they not all tokens 
of the love of God, our Creator and Benefactor, 
and proofs that he designs our happiness on 
earth ? To treat them as unworthy of regard 
is to affront the goodness that offers them. 
They do deserve our notice and our labor, if it 
were only because they are parts of our condi- 
tion, divinely appointed, — appointed by Him 
who orders all our lot. But besides this, we 
need them for our own sake. They are the 
means provided for supplying the wants of our 
physical constitution. Our bodies no less than 
our souls are to be cared for ; to provide for their 
health, and comfort, and enjoyment is a certain 
part of our duty. Consider, too, how much hu- 
man industry, enterprise, and happiness are pro- 
moted by the labor required to supply our bodily 
wants. That labor is too important in all its 
aspects to be disparaged or contemned. Still, 
however worthy of our attention, and however 
imperative the obligation to attend to it, it is not 
the highest labor of man. He who lives only 
for the earthly life, though that life be governed 
by principles of sobriety, honesty, and benev- 
olence, is faithless to the trusts committed to 
him, and the destination appointed for him as 



TRUE LIFE. 



105 



the possessor of a spiritual nature. By that na- 
ture he has higher affinities than those which 
connect him with earth, nobler capacities than 
those which are called into exercise by his tem- 
poral relations, and a loftier end to be achieved 
than any which the world presents. It is with 
the powers and purposes, the objects and ends, 
of that spiritual nature that our peculiar and dis- 
tinctive duty lies. Here is the sphere of action 
to which we are appointed by the gift of such a 
nature. Take this away, and how should we 
differ from other animals who share with us the 
bounties of God's providence on earth ? We 
should, indeed, excel them in intelligence and 
sagacity, and the capability of enjoyment, and 
yet, after all, the only difference between us and 
them would be in degree, not in kind. But 
there is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of 
the Almighty hath given him understanding. 
To use that understanding in promoting the 
purposes of our spirits, in other words, the great 
spiritual interests which pertain to us by our na- 
ture and condition, that is man^s duty, that the 
great law by which his life must be controlled. 
Can man, then, live by bread alone ? Can the 
gifts of earth, even the highest and most abun- 
dant, sustain his spirit-life, satisfy the wants of 
his soul, make it grow and thrive, and bring it 



106 



TRUE LIFE. 



forward to its designed maturity and perfection ? 
What are the lessons of experience and observa- 
tion on this point ? Look at those who have se- 
cured the largest measure of worldly good, — rich- 
eS; honors, pleasures, — and do we not find that 
for these ends they have sacrificed the supports, 
and comforts, and hopes in which the life of the 
soul consists? and that, when regarded as spiritu- 
al and immortal beings, they are poor, and miser- 
able, and blind, and naked ? So true it is that 
man shall not live by bread alone. 

And it is no less a truth, though in sadness 
and sorrow be it spoken, that the general lan- 
guage and daily conduct of men are entirely 
contradictory to this sentiment. They practi- 
cally say, We will live by bread alone. We will 
spend our days in providing for the body. We 
will seek our pleasures from earthly sources. We 
will lay up much treasure for many years, and 
when our storehouses are full, we will pull them 
down and build greater, and what we cannot 
enjoy ourselves, we will leave to our succes- 
sors. Thou fool, says the Scripture, not only 
because thou forgettest that thy soul may this 
night be required of thee, but because thou 
thinkest to live in and by that which has no 
life in it. 

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by 



TRUE LIFE. 



107 



every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of 
God"; that is, by any means which God or- 
dains. And the means he ordains are not only 
sufficient, but the best means to that end. He 
ordains that the life of the body shall be sus- 
tained by food, and he has made ample pro- 
vision, not merely for its sustenance, but also for 
its comfort and enjoyment. But man has anoth- 
er life besides that of the body ; and this life, 
too, must be sustained by the means which God 
ordains. To neglect these, and yet to think to 
live as men, that is, to fulfil the purposes of our 
being, is as idle as to think to sustain the life of 
the body without its appropriate food and exer- 
cise. No. To live as men is not to live a 
mere animal life, though it be in the enjoyment 
of all the pleasures and comforts suited to that 
life. To live as men is to bring into active ex- 
ercise the powers and capacities which are pe- 
culiar to our nature. We are intelligent beings, 
capable of receiving and communicating knowl- 
edge. The laws of nature and providence are 
open to our understanding. The boundless uni- 
verse is spread before us as an open book, 
from which that wisdom may be gained which 
shall expand our minds, and elevate our views, 
and refine and ennoble our conceptions and de- 
sires. In the constitution of our nature. — in 



108 



TRUE LIFE. 



our bodies, so fearfully and wonderfully made, — 
in our minds, which bear so plainly the impress 
of our Maker's hand, — we have another source 
of knowledge no less useful than ennobling, — 
and yet another in the harmony that exists be- 
tween our nature and the constitution of things 
in which we are placed, affording all needed op- 
portunities for accomplishing the great purpose of 
life. The sources of knowledge opened to man 
are indeed various and abundant. And they are 
the appointments of God. They are means 
which he has ordained for the life, the enjoy- 
ment, the happiness of man. And does not our 
own experience confirm the truth of this senti- 
ment ? When are we more happy, when do we 
enjoy life more, than when engaged in enlarging 
our stores of knowledge, or applying the knowl- 
edge that we have already gained? Are the 
pleasures of sense to be compared for a moment 
with the exercise of our intellectual capacities 
in any honorable and useful occupation ? And 
do we not always look back upon such employ- 
ment with feelings of satisfaction and pleasure, 
such as are never experienced from the gratifica- 
tion of appetite, or any mere animal propensity ? 
Here, then, is one specific means of our true life, 
and, so far as we rightly improve it, we live in 
accordance with the will of our Creator, — by the 
word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God. 



TRUE LIFE. 



109 



But it is not merely the intellectual faculties, 
and the opportunities for their exercise and im- 
provement, that God has appointed for the life 
and happiness of man. We have also a moral na- 
ture. God has made us in his own image, and his 
command to us is, " Be ye holy, for I am holy." 
Viewing ourselves as sustaining this relation to 
our Creator, how exalted are the purposes for 
which we are created, and to accomplish those 
purposes must be the great object for which we 
should strive. We are not to live merely for 
the objects that are around us. They are all 
good in their place, but that place can never be 
the highest in the estimation of him who regards 
himself as a child of God. He will feel that no 
earthly good can satisfy the wants of his moral 
nature, and so long as he is sensible of those 
wants, he will never seek to gratify them from 
any outward source. He must then look high- 
er than earth and deeper than sense. He must 
seek for that which, while it sanctifies all his 
earthly relations, will ally him most closely to 
the spiritual and the heavenly. He must seek 
for that religious culture which alone can satisfy 
the desires that are reaching forth from his mor- 
al nature, which alone can supply the wants of 
his soul. 

The deepest want of human nature, and one 



110 



TRUE LIFE. 



which, if unsiipplied, leaves the widest desola- 
tion in man's heart, is that of religion. Without 
it he has no purpose to his being, no refuge for 
his fears, no foundation for his trust. Without 
it, the circumstances of his condition appear to 
have no object, and the discipline through which 
he must pass, no meaning. He has desires with- 
in him which are ever craving gratification, but 
which he knows not how to satisfy. He is like 
a vessel floating without a compass upon the 
wide ocean, when darkness hides every guiding 
star ; now tossed by furious winds and surging 
waves, now motionless in the perfect calm, now 
carried onwards by the flowing current, but still 
wandering on in doubt, perplexity, and fear. 
Religion is the voice of God, heard above the 
winds and waters, commanding light to spring 
out of darkness, order out of confusion, and re- 
vealing the course to the desired haven. 

As religion is the deepest want of human na- 
ture, so the satisfaction of that want creates the 
keenest delight, and the most solid enjoyment. 
Then all the apparent mysteries of life are 
explained. The various circumstances which 
checker our lot with good and evil are seen to 
have a meaning and a purpose. We understand 
how all things will work together for our good. 
But, more than this, it enables us to regard Him 



TRUE LIFE. 



Ill 



who disposes all events as our Father, who is 
watching over us with parental care, and all the 
purposes of whose government are for the promo- 
tion of our true welfare. In him we may place 
an implicit trust, a perfect confidence. Though 
the circumstances of our condition may not be in 
accordance with our wishes, yet he holds them in 
his hand, and guides them with the wisdom of 
omniscience and with the kindness of infinite 
love. Never can we feel so safe, as when we re- 
alize that we are under his protection, whose 
tender mercies are over all his works. Never 
can we be more truly happy than when pouring 
forth our high homage and heartfelt gratitude to 
the Author and Preserver of our being, the Giver 
of all our blessings. Never can we be more tru- 
ly dignified and exalted, than when holding com- 
munion with the Father of our spirits. 

It is the possession of a moral nature that 
makes us capable of this high enjoyment ; and it 
is the right employment of the powers of that 
nature which enables us to experience its happi- 
ness. Shall we then neglect these high capaci- 
ties, and call it life to enjoy the fleeting and im- 
perfect pleasures of time and sense ? Can our 
true life be sustained by devotion to things of 
the world, though they may be gFven to our ef- 
forts in the largest abundance? No. The word 



112 



TRUE LIFE. 



of God has gone forth, Man shall not live by 
bread alone ; his life consisteth not in the abun- 
dance of the things that he possesseth. His true 
life is a spiritual life, a life of the soul, and the 
soul only lives when in union with the all-per- 
vading spirit. The soul can live and thrive only 
on that spiritual food which is adapted to its spir- 
itual nature. It can rise to strength, and vigor, 
and enjoyment, only when it is fed with truth, 
and knowledge, and active obedience, with holy 
meditation, with deep and fervent devotion. Here 
is the sustenance of that moral nature which is 
our instinctive endowment, and thus must its 
life be sustained, if we would live by the word 
that proceedeth out of the mouth of God. 

But there is a further view of the purposes of 
man's life, which also presents another means 
that God has ordained for the comfort and en- 
joyment of our life. It is the view of our im- 
mortality. Here is the crowning glory of our 
nature, and the highest incentive to provide for 
its true life. The immortality which the gospel 
reveals to man is not the mere continuance of 
existence, but elevation to a higher sphere of 
action, to far nobler privileges, far purer joys, 
without limit either in degree or duration. 
Such is the destination appointed for us by the 
infinite goodness of God, which, were it not as- 



TRUE LIFE. 



113 



sured by evidence which God alone could give, 
it would be only the boldest presumption in man 
to aspire to. But with this glorious destination 
before us, and certified as it is by divine confir- 
mation, shall we call that life which has respect 
only to our earthly existence ? Shall it be our 
first object to collect around us a large portion of 
this world's goods, and then, looking with com- 
placency on the treasures we have accumulated, 
shall we say to our souls, Take your ease, eat, 
drink, and be merry, for this is your life ? O, 
what has the soul to do with those perishable 
treasures? How can they support its life, and 
sustain its energies, and minister to its enjoy- 
ment ? That soul had its birthplace in heaven ; 
it came from the forming hand of God, stamped 
with his own image and superscription, and he 
sent it here to be educated and trained up for a 
happy return to him, that he might receive it 
with joy, and admit it to that course of immortal 
glory and blessedness which he had provided for 
it. And shall we think that this soul can live 
by bread alone, and furnish for it no other sup- 
plies than those which are needed for the body's 
wants ? Will such a course of life prepare our 
souls for the immortality that Christ has reveal- 
ed ? We all know what are the great spiritual 
purposes to which our souls should be devoted. 
8 



114 



TRUE LIFE. 



We all know that the most diligent attention to 
the things of this world cannot prepare us for the 
joys which God has provided for those who love 
him. We know that fidelity to our Christian 
obligations, the duties of religion, of holiness, and 
piety, can alone qualify us for a happy entrance 
into that eternal world which must soon be our 
home. Why, then, shall we allow our attention 
to be diverted from this great purpose by any 
thing the world can offer us. So sure as we 
brought nothing into the world with us, we can 
carry nothing out. 

By the gift of an intellectual and moral nature, 
God has made us capable of understanding and 
pursuing the true objects of life, and so far as we 
are faithful to those ends he has promised eternal 
rewards. With such means and prospects of 
glory, honor, and immortality, what motive can 
be wanting to prompt us henceforth to devote 
our time and energies to labor for the meat that 
perisheth not, but endureth unto everlasting life? 
The voice of God invites us to come and partake 
of that living bread which came down from heav- 
en, — the religion of Jesus Christ the Saviour. 
Let us accept his invitation, and receive his gift, 
then shall our souls live ; yea, they shall live 
for ever. 



SERMON Y. 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 

ALL FLESH IS AS GRASS, AND ALL THE GLORY OF MAN AS THE 
FLOWER OF GRASS. THE GRASS WTTHERETH, AND THE FLOW- 
ER THEREOF FALLETH AWAY: BUT THE WORD OF THE LORD 
ENDURETH FOR EVER. 1 Pet. i. 24, 25. 

We have now arrived at a season of the year 
which brings forcibly to mind one of these decla- 
rations, — The grass withereth, and the flower 
thereof falleth." The glory and beauty of the 
vegetable kingdom are now yielding to the chill 
frosts of autumn, and marks of desolation and 
decay are everywhere apparent in forest, field, 
and garden. The changes which come over the 
face of nature are not without their lessons, and 
the instructions they bring are fitted to awaken 
deep emotions, and to fix salutary impressions in 
every heart that opens itself to their influence. 
They are the direct teachings of God, coming to 



116 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



US through no human medium, and, like other 
events of his providence, designed to remind us 
of his immediate presence and agency. It is a 
part of oar duty to listen to such teachings ; to 
receive them into our hearts ; and to make them 
means of spiritual improvement. With these 
views, let us now give our minds to the contem- 
plations which the present season suggests. Let 
us see if it has not lessons which may help us in 
fulfilling the great end of our life. 

The grass withereth, and the flower falleth ; 
and as they wither and fall, they tell us that thus 
transient is our earthly existence, thus insecure 
are its outward charms, the possessions and pleas- 
ures that are here held and enjoyed. Look 
back but a few weeks, and we see the earth just 
sending forth the tender blades of herbage in the 
fields, the early shoots upon the trees. To these 
quickly succeeded the thick-leaved foliage and 
the clustering blossoms, and soon came on the 
glorious summer, with its verdant beauty, its 
fragrant breath, its scenes of life and joy. And 
these we would gladly retain. But it cannot be. 
Time hastens on its course, and with it fly the 
charms of nature. How quickly have they gone. 
Who does not say. How short has the season 
been ! Already the grass has withered and the 
flower thereof has fallen. And as they go to 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



117 



mingle with the dust from which they sprang, 
they say to us, as in a voice from the grave : — 
Ye who are yet walking above ns in the fulness 
of life, ye too shall yield to the universal lot of 
this lower world. Thus surely shall your out- 
ward possessions and enjoyments fade and with- 
er, thus surely shall ye come and take your places 
in the dust with us, for dust ye are and unto dust 
ye shall return. As for man, his days are as 
grass ; as a flower of the field so he flourisheth. 
For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone, and 
the place thereof shall know it no more. So 
transient is the life of man, for it is soon cut off", 
and we fly away. Thou who art now rejoicing 
in thy youth, and in the hope of lengthened years 
and many pleasures, the bloom of health upon 
thy cheek gives thee no protection ; death heeds 
it not, nor yet the fewness of thy years, and 
though he now passes by thee, every day takes 
thee nearer to thy grave, and hurrying time soon 
will bring thee there. In this thy spring-season, 
hasten to sow in thy moral nature the seeds of 
piety and righteousness which shall spring up 
and bear fruit for immortality. Thou who goest 
in the full strength of manhood, thy spring is 
fled, thy autumn approaches with speedy steps, 
and who may say whether thine eyes will not 
be closed in death even before it arrives ? O, la- 



118 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



bor not, then, for the meat that perisheth, but for 
that which endureth unto everlasting hfe ! And 
thou whose head is silvered by the frost of age, 
thou hast seen many a one depart, and by the 
open grave hast thou many a time been taught 
the lesson of thine own mortality. Thou hast 
in thyself experienced the fleetness of time, the 
passing away of human hopes and joys. Thou 
hast arrived at the autumn of life, and must be 
already familiar with the thoughts of death and 
eternity. Let those thoughts be yet more strong- 
ly fixed in thy mind, and urge thee to use thy 
utmost diligence in redeeming the time that re- 
mains, for thy end is close at hand. 

But the brevity and uncertainty of life, and the 
transitoriness of all earthly things, — are these 
the only truths which the present season offers 
to our consideration ? Do the images of decay 
and death around us point to nothing beyond 
themselves? Let me turn for a reply to the dec- 
larations of my text. " The grass withereth, and 
the flower thereof falleth away ; but the word 
of the Lord endureth for ever." It is that word 
which appoints the changes which we now wit- 
ness, and therefore should they remind us of Him 
whose power is thus exhibited. Here then is 
another and no less important lesson which the 
season is designed to teach. And well will it be 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



119 



for us if we learn it. Well will it be for us, if, 
while we feelingly perceive the transitoriness of 
nature and of man's mortal state, we acknowl- 
edge the steadfastness of God's word, and the ev- 
erlasting mercy of his providence. That which 
passes away should speak to us of that which 
remains. The constant rotation of decay is an 
intimation of the Being who ever lives to super- 
intend it ; whose throne decay cannot harm, be- 
cause decay is itself his ministering servant. 
The certainty of death reveals an eternal word 
which commands death, and which both killeth 
and maketh alive. Let that word be our trust, 
even when we look on the withering grass, and 
think of the perishing children of men. Let it 
be our trust, as we behold its operations in all 
the changes of the outward universe, and let it 
prompt all noble aspirations within our souls, 
which are also sustained by that same word. If 
we cannot trust in verdure, freshness, beau- 
ty, which soon languish and fail ; or in goodli- 
ness and glory, which fade and pass away, let us 
•trust in the word that ordains their vanishing 
and departure, for that word is above them and 
must endure. If the soul has any trust, — and, 
O, how it wrongs its nature and neglects its en- 
dowments when it has no trust ! — it must place 
that trust in something which abides. And 



120 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



what is abiding but the word of God ? The 
grass witherethj and the flower thereof falleth 
away ; but the word of the Lord endureth for 
ever." 

Allj then, is not transient and decaying in hu- 
man life. That which rests on the word of God, 
that which is the fruit of a pure trust in it, shall, 
like that word, endure for ever. Of that no 
change in years or ages can injure or deprive us. 
That is our own ; our own because it is of God, 
who is our life, and the life which is fed from 
the fountain of his unchanging and unquencha- 
ble love must be perpetual as the source which 
supplies its energies. That life, unlike the fad- 
ing grass and withering flower, is ever fresh and 
blooming. It is the life of holy principles, of pi- 
ous convictions, of Christian aflections, and gen- 
erous virtues. It is a life which is the manifest- 
ed influence of the divine spirit, and which, 
amid the busy action and labor of the world, in 
scenes of temptation and danger, preserves its 
calmness and its purity, looking ever onward to 
the higher and nobler life where its virtues shall 
be perfected, and its eternal blessedness secured. 
What though all flesh is as grass, and all the out- 
ward glory of man as the flower of grass; the 
word of God endureth for ever. And he whose 
trust is in that word, and who lives the life 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



121 



which that word enjoins, he shall not know de- 
cay, nor shall his glory fade and wither. Though 
heaven and earth shall pass away, he stands im- 
movable. The Rock of Ages is his sure support ; 
the word of Jehovah, which cannot fail, is his 
protection and his strength. 

Yet is it never to be forgotten that this divine 
life, this peaceful and satisfying trust, this pure 
and devout state of mind, is the result only of 
earnest diligence and a faithful improvement of 
all the means of holy living. This is another 
lesson taught us by the present season. Could 
we have reaped the fruits which autumn has 
brought to their maturity, if in the spring we 
had sown no seed, and in the summer bestowed 
no care ? The sun would indeed have sent 
down its genial warmth on our untilled fields, 
and the fertilizing rain would not have been 
withheld. But neither sun nor rain could have 
availed any thing towards producing a harvest, 
unless human industry had also performed its 
pcurt. And so in the religious culture. The aids 
of divine grace and the influences of the Holy 
Spirit are ever vouchsafed, and striving with ev- 
ery spirit of man. Bat they are exerted in vain 
until we yield to their guidance, and enter upon 
the work to which they direct us. As well may 
we expect to gather a harvest from fields we 



122 AUTUMN LESSONS. 

have left uncultivated, as to expect that the peace, 
the supports, the comforts of religion will make 
a part of,our experience, while we neglect to use 
the appointed means of securing them. What- 
soever a man soweth, that shall he also reap," is 
as true in the culture of the soul as of the earth. 
For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh 
reap corruption ; hut he that soweth to the spirit 
shall of the spirit reap life everlasting. To what 
can we look forward but a joyless autumn of hfe, 
barren of good fruits, if we will not give our- 
selves now to the cares and labors of Christian 
duty. 

Ah, sad is his condition, whether he realizes it 
or not, who, while life is passing away, and its pre- 
cious seasons of improvement leaving him one af- 
ter another, never to return, heeds not the oppor- 
tunities oflTered him, and slights the privileges he 
might make so valuable ! Full surely is he pre- 
paring for himself a wretched harvest of bitter- 
ness and sorrow. When the days have come in 
which his earthly course is closing, and he looks 
back upon misspent time, and wasted talents, and 
neglected duties, what then can save him from 
the stern rebukes of his awakened conscience, 
and that biting remorse which conscious unfaith- 
fulness must always produce ? This is the inev- 
itable eff'ect of his reflections on his past life, 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



123 



and the natural fruit of the tares he has sown 
in the field of his moral nature. My friends, 
would we avoid this sorrowful consummation ? 
Let uSj then, be diligent in using the means of 
preventing it which are already within our pow- 
er. Let us be watchful of the affections and 
inclinations of our hearts ; of the impressions 
which our minds receive and encourage ; and 
of the resolutions and actions into which we are 
led. Let us seek to be well acquainted with 
Christian truths, and deepen within our souls 
the power of religious principle. Let the faith, 
hope, and charity which the gospel inculcates 
be honored and obeyed as our habitual guides in 
duty, and rules of life. So shall we sow that 
good seed which never disappoints the expecta- 
tions that are placed upon it. So, in the autumn 
of our life, shall we reap the harvest of divine 
wisdom, and Christian experience, and heavenly 
peace. 

And these blessed fruits of the religious spirit 
and life not only afford a present calm and joy- 
ous satisfaction, but they are also the appointed 
means of qualification for that future and purer 
bliss which is the promised recompense of the 
heavenly state. This is another of the truths 
which are brought to our minds among the 
teachings of the present season. The husband- 



124 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



man who has now gathered in the fruits of an 
abundant harvest rejoices in them not merely as 
the objects of present possession, or as a supply 
for his immediate wants. He sees in them also 
the means of support and comfort through the 
long and barren winter. It is when he regards 
them as a secured provision against future ne- 
cessities, that he is especially thankful to the 
Lord of the harvest, who has thus rewarded his 
toil, and crowned his labors with success. He 
has fulfilled his appointed task. His labors are 
now brought to a close, and he may look forward 
to the season of rest, in the happy consciousness 
that the object of his efforts is fully accom- 
plished. And so is it with the Christian who 
has faithfully devoted himself to the great ob- 
jects of his spiritual life. He feels within him 
the consciousness of duty well performed. His 
spirit is sustained by a pure confidence in God, 
which his past efforts have continually helped 
to strengthen and mature. His rejoicing is the 
testimony of his conscience that, in simplicity 
and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom, 
but by the grace of God, he has had his conver- 
sation in the world. What though the world is 
passing away, and he is to pass from it ? What 
though the time of his probation is drawing to a 
close, and eternity is soon to open on his soul ? 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



125 



He can look forward to a season of rest, and a 
recompense of joy. He has treasures laid up 
for a future life, when the labors of this shall be 
ended ; and the harvest he is now reaping, of 
spiritual peace, and holy trust, and divine love, is 
at once the preparation and the pledge of an 
everlasting and heavenly blessedness. 
. Such is the natural and joyful result of the 
life of Christian duty. It is the appointment of 
Him who ordains the course of the seasons, and 
who has promised that seed-time and harvest, 
summer and winter, shall never fail. As nat- 
urally and as surely as the earth passes from the. 
death-sleep of winter into the life of spring, and 
the beauty of summer, and the fruitfulness of 
autumn, so naturally and so surely shall the 
faithful Christian pass from the sleep of the 
grave into the life, and beauty, and fruitfulness 
of the celestial paradise of God. Why shall we 
not, then, open our hearts to the influence of this 
joyful assurance, and be incited by it to enter at 
once upon that course of piety and righteous- 
ness to which it directs us, and which is the 
only course that can conduct us to this end ? 
O, why will any stand all the day idle, when 
such is the certain recompense of faithful indus- 
try in the religious life ? But without such in- 
dustry, that recompense never can be attained. 



126 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



The idle and unprofitable servant shall be cast 
into outer darkness ; there shall be weeping and 
gnashing of teeth. 

Work, then, my brethren, work out your own 
salvation. Labor for the meat that endureth 
unto everlasting life. Strive to enter in at the 
strait gate. These are the demands of our 
religion. They point out the one great duty of 
life, which is of imperative obligation on every 
one. For the performance of this one duty, all 
our capacities, and privileges, and means are af- 
forded us. Let us use them for this end. The 
teachings of nature, the voice of God in our 
hearts, and the gospel of Christ, all unite in 
urging this duty upon us. Let us listen, and 
obey. Then shall we not complain or mourn 
that here is no everlasting spring, no undecaying 
summer ; that here all flesh is as grass, and all 
the glory of man as the flower of grass. The 
grass may wither, and the flower thereof fade 
and die, the world may pass away, and ev- 
ery hope that rests upon it may perish, but 
still the word of the Lord will endure for ever. 
That word shall be our stay and support, our 
true and imperishable life, which shall overcome 
the power of dissolution and decay, of death and 
the grave, and ever shall onr thanks be unto 
God, who giveth us this victory through Jesus 
Christ our Lord ! 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



127 



My friends, is not this an end worth laboring 
for? What else can we put in comparison with 
it ? What else, indeed, is of any value if this 
be not also attained ? With this end in pros- 
pect, why should we strive and toil so eagerly 
and anxiously for the things that perish, as if 
they were our life ? How do all the good things 
of earth shrink almost to insignificance, when 
we reflect how utterly uncertain is our hold 
upon them, even when they seem most secure, 
and how short is their continuance, even if held 
to the end of life ! It is these that constitute 
that outward glory of man which is referred to 
in my text, and which is as the flower of grass, 
that withereth and falleth away. Are we right, 
then, in calling them blessings, if we allow our 
hearts to grow to them, and in them seek our 
peace, looking for no other and better than they 
can give us? No. They are not blessings if 
so regarded, if so abused. They hide from us 
the end for which they were given. They con- 
ceal from our view the great and good Giver of 
them all. We make them, as it were, a screen 
to shut from our souls the prospect of that high- 
er, purer, heavenly good, of which they, in their 
proudest glory and richest abundance, are but 
faint shadows. Thus let them not be regarded, 
so let them not be abused, by us. Let them 



128 



AUTUMN LESSONS. 



rather speak to us of Him whose gifts they are. 
Let them be used by us to his glory, by making 
them incentives to praise him in the gratitude of 
our hearts, and the obedience of our lives. So 
shall they be true blessings to us, the objects of 
present enjoyment, and the means of future and 
eternal felicity. Then, when they fade and 
wither, as they must, their good effects will still 
remain. The gratitude, love, and obedience 
which they have caused to grow and flourish in 
our hearts and lives, these shall not fade and 
wither. These are the fair fruits of the good 
seed sown in the spirit, and so sure as the word 
of God faileth not, he who thus sows to the 
spirit shall of the spirit reap life everlasting. 



SERMON VI. 



SLAVERY. 

REMEMBER THEM WHO ARE IN BONDS, AS BOUND WITH THEM. 

Heb. xiii, .3. 

From this and many similar allusions in the 
Christian Scriptures, it is plain that a system of 
domestic slavery was in existence when they 
were written. And this being the case, it was 
not only perfectly natural, but inevitable, that it 
should be mentioned among the things that de- 
manded the sympathy, the prayers, and the con- 
sistent efforts of all Christian disciples, as an evil 
to be alleviated and removed. There is no form 
of misery or adversity which has not a rightful 
claim to the considerate regards of those who 
profess to hold the benevolent and merciful reli- 
gion of the gospel ; and in all such persons the 
disposition should be as strong, as the duty is 
manifest, to afford whatever relief is in their 
power. No Christian, as a Christian, has any 
9 



130 



SLAVERY. 



right to shut out from his sympathy, his prayers, 
and his aid any form of evil, or wrong, or op- 
pression under which any of his fellow-beings 
may be suffering. The very object of our reli- 
gion is to do away totally and for ever every 
form and degree of evil from the world, and this 
object is not to be, cannot be, effected but by the 
agency of those by whom this religion is received. 
Therefore does it address them in tones of en- 
treaty and remonstrance ; and with its voice of 
authority as the word of God, as a religion from 
heaven, it calls upon them to be faithful to this 
great and undeniable obligation that is laid upon 
them. So far as any evils now remain of a 
character similar to those which existed in the 
New Testament times, and directions concerning 
which are found in that book, those directions are 
still valid and of full authority as our guides in , 
relation to the evils to which they refer. The 
evil to which 1 consider my text to refer, that of 
domestic slavery, still remains, and it is still an 
evil of sufficient magnitude to claim our devoted 
attention, and to demand the application to it of 
all the directions pertaining to it which are found 
in our sacred books, and to demand further to be 
brought to the test and tried by the pure spirit 
and principles of that divine religion which those 
books reveal. So long as it remains, it is the 



SLAVERY. 



131 



duty of every Christian to ask himself, under a 
full sense of his Christian responsibility, What is 
my relation to this evil, and what does my reli- 
gion require me to do respecting it ? This duty 
devolves upon every Christian, first, because 
slavery is one of the present and existing evils 
which obstruct the progress and the influence of 
Christianity, and which Christianity is intended 
to remove ; and secondly, and more strongly, 
because of the great and manifest miseries which 
are peculiar to this evil in itself considered. On 
both of these grounds, — that is. in its general 
aspect, as making one portion of the great mass 
of evil now existing in the world, and especially 
in its peculiar and distinctive aspect, as a cause of 
grievous wrong and oppression, — on both these 
grounds, it deservedly claims a prominent place 
in the regards of every Christian disciple. To 
a great degree, — that is, in the minds of very 
many, — it does occupy that place. Their atten- 
tion has been turned to it directly and forcibly, 
and many systems of operation have been de- 
vised and practised for its alleviation or removal. 
But there remain others who are not so affected 
by it, but who, on the contrary, occupy the 
ground of indifference to it, or of hostility to all 
means which are employed for its suppression. 
And such suppose that they have sufficient rea- 



132 



SLAVERY. 



sons to justify their indifference or their hostil- 
ity, as the case may be. I propose, then, in the 
first place, to consider some of these reasons, in 
order to see whether they are sufficient to sus- 
tain the ground in behalf of which they are al- 
leged. 

One of these reasons is derived from the po- 
litical relations which slavery sustains in our 
country. What those relations are, it is needless 
for me to repeat. It is sufficient to say, what 
every one knows, that the constitution of our 
federal government virtually acknowledges slav- 
ery as established by law, and forbids the Free 
States from attempting to disturb this institution 
in the States where it exists. As this is so, it is 
supposed by many that any discussion or action 
on this subject is a violation of political good 
faith and honesty. This is not the place, nor is 
this the occasion, for the discussion of political 
subjects of any kind. Nor do I deem it proper 
that subjects suited to the Christian pulpit should 
be discussed here in their political bearings. But 
this is the place where every evil that exists on 
earth may be properly considered in its moral 
and religious bearings. I ask, then, with regard 
to the point now before us, and allowing all the 
support to slavery which the constitution can be 
made to afford, is that constitution the highest 



SLAVERY. 



133 



law which, as Christians, we are bound to obey ? 
Is that the supreme rule for our moral and reli- 
gious faith and practice, so that, if that recog- 
nizes and supports any form of evil, we also 
must be its supporters and defenders? If this 
be so, what then becomes of the religion of the 
gospel, and what is its position ? It becomes a 
thing of no value, authority, or power, any fur- 
ther than we see fit so to regard it, and its posi- 
tion is that of subserviency to, and dependence 
upon, the acts of human legislation. This is the 
necessary and inevitable result of the sentiment 
we are now considering. For the gospel is the 
supreme rule for us in all our conduct, or it is 
not, — and as such, we must either obey it or 
reject it. There is no middle ground. But we 
have already decided this point. We profess to 
receive the gospel as of divine authority, as the 
law of God. Whatever, then, is contrary to the 
spirit and principles of the gospel, we are reli- 
giously bound to oppose and suppress. This 
rule is of universal and infinite obligation. It 
applies to all the evils that exist in the world, 
and therefore it applies to slavery, as one of 
those evils. No matter by what human author- 
ity it is guarded and upheld, the authority of 
God is, and ever must be, paramount to that of 
man, and no human authority can have power 
to forbid our obedience to it. 



134 



SLAVERY. 



If the question of slavery were merely a ques- 
tion of human law, having no moral or religious 
bearings, then the law would be the supreme 
rule respecting it. But it is not so. The plain 
truth of the matter is this. Whether man is or is 
not held as property is a question of fact. Wheth- 
er man can or cannot be so held is a question of 
law. Whether man ought to be so held is a 
question of right. It is this last and highest 
view that we are to regard in the light of the 
gospel, and in this view, legislative and judi- 
cial authorities are of no account. There is 
a law which courts affect not to decide, and 
which they cannot change. To this all men 
must bow, the legislator and the judge, the gov- 
ernor and the subject. Reason and conscience 
are its interpreters. God is its constitutor. To 
this law human legislation should be conformed. 
When this law is once understood, no man 
should hesitate to obey it. It is the law of right. 
This is the law which slavery violates. 

Besides, what is more common than unjust . 
and injurious legislation ? and what occupies 
our legislators more than providing remedies for 
such legislation ? And it is against such legisla- 
tion, wherever it exists, that the voice of the 
Christian should be ever uplifted in objection 
and remonstrance. This is a very different thing, 



SLAVERY. 



135 



though it is not always so understood, yet it is 
a very different thing from resistance to the gov- 
ernment under which we live. Such resistance 
is never to be encouraged or aided in any way. 
And as government has ordained slavery, no in- 
dividual is in any case to offer resistance to gov- 
ernment on this account. But the criminal legis- 
lation by which slavery is sustained, — that may 
and ought to be freely and earnestly exposed. 
Injustice is never so terrible, and never so cor- 
rupting, as when armed with the sanction of the 
law. The authority of such legislation, instead 
of being a reason for silence and inaction under 
wrongs, is a reason for protesting against wrong 
with the undivided energy of argument, en- 
treaty, and solemn admonition, and on no just 
grounds can this course be regarded as the least 
violation of political good faith and honesty. 

Another reason that is alleged to justify indif- 
ference or hostility to the anti-slavery cause is 
derived from the temper that has been shown, 
and the measures that have been adopted, by 
those who have assumed the special care and 
direction of the cause, that is, by the Aboli- 
tionists as a party. It is said that these men 
are filled with a zeal not controlled by Chris- 
tian charity and moderation, but furious, vin- 
dictive, and malicious, — that they act as if no 



136 



SLAVERY. 



evil existed on earth but that of slavery, and as 
if no guilt could be compared with that of 
countenancing or upholding it, — that the tone 
of their addresses and their writings is fierce, bit- 
ter, and abusive, thus manifesting a disposition 
which ought to find no sympathy or encourage- 
ment. It is said that all their benevolent regards 
are shut up in this one object, and that in con- 
sequence they are criminally indifferent to every 
other good work. It is objected, that, for the 
accomplishment of their purpose, they adopt a 
system of extravagant and unwarrantable agita- 
tion, seeking to keep the public mind in a state 
of intense, if not angry excitement, and which 
tends more to exasperate the passions against the 
slaveholder, than to enlist the affections in be- 
half of the slave. They are also accused of being 
interested and selfish in their aims, — of having 
for their true object not so much the freedom 
of the slave, as their own aggrandizement, — 
of engaging in the Abolition movement as a 
stepping-stone to political power and authority. 

Now, with regard to these and many simi- 
lar charges which are brought against the Aboli- 
tionists, I cannot believe that they are true to 
any thing like the extent to which they are as- 
serted. But, at the same time, I am compelled 
to say, while I deeply regret that there is but 



SLAVERY. 



137 



too much foundation for them, that the course 
pursued by the Abolitionists as a party would 
necessarily lead to just such accusations, and 
would also tend to excite and strengthen the 
hostility of their opposers to themselves, and 
thus to the cause in which they are engaged. 
And this manifestly and undeniably is the fact. 
It cannot be doubted, that very many have been 
estranged from the anti-slavery cause by the 
very means' that have been used to advance it, — 
many who, by a different and more Christian 
course, would have been made its fast friends 
and supporters. No cause of moral reform can 
be efficiently sustained and advanced by person- 
al denunciation and abuse. Such weapons can 
never be mighty through God to the pulling 
down of the strongholds of sin and iniquity. 
The great rule of Christian action in all such 
cases is, with meekness to reprove, to hate the 
sin with all our hearts, and still the sinner love. 
To whatever degree this rule is violated, the ef- 
fects must be offensive and injurious. So far as 
it has been violated by the Abolitionists, nothing 
can have been gained which can be of any es- 
sential benefit to them as a party, while, on the 
other hand, much has been lost to the cause of 
freedom and humanity. But the most grave and 
weighty charge against them I have yet to name. 



138 



SLAVERY. 



It is their gross denunciation of the Christian 
church and Christian institutions. Tracts have 
been published and extensively circulated, de- 
nouncing the Christian church as a band of 
thieves and robbers. Overlooking all the good 
that has been done in past time, and all that is 
now being done by the church, disregarding the 
fact, that the church is the fountain-head of all 
benevolent action, and that the cause of anti- 
slavery is itself one stream from that fountain, 
and depending upon it for its best support, they 
impiously proclaim, that it is but a polluted 
mass of vice and corruption, and this simply be- 
cause the church, as such, will not go with them 
in all their lengths of violence and excess. I 
am very far from believing that the Christian 
church possesses any thing like the purity and 
holiness which it ought to have ; but I am still 
farther from believing that any cause, which has 
the promotion of human welfare for its true ob- 
ject, requires that the church be denounced and 
vilified as it has been in this case. So far as 
the cause of anti-slavery is based on truth, right- 
eousness, and moral principle, it must approve 
itself to, and be sustained by, the Christian 
church ; and every member of that church, so 
far as he has the true Christian spirit, will feel 
it to be his duty to cherish and promote the 



SLAVEBT. 



139 



cause. It should, then, be the object of those 
who devote themselves specially to it to make 
this feeling of duty more deep and practical, by 
showing that the cause of anti-slavery is the 
cause of Christianity. But this never can be 
done, but will only be opposed and baffled by 
denunciation and abuse. It is, however, to be 
readily admitted, that many of their publications 
have been calm, well considered, and abound- 
ing in strong reasoning. But those which have 
been most widely scattered, and are most adapt- 
ed to act on the common mind, have had a tone 
unfriendly both to manners and to the spirit of 
our religion. It is not necessary, though it 
would be very easy, to mention in this connec- 
tion more particulars of a similar character, and 
I have stated these strongly because they afford 
one important ground on which many justify 
their indifference or hostility to the anti-slavery 
movement. But consider now how perfectly 
inadequate is this ground to sustain that course. 
Because the temper and the measures employed 
for any object are believed to be wrong in them- 
selves, and pernicious in their consequences, is 
the object therefore wrong and pernicious ? Or 
because men in the prosecution of any cause are 
governed by selfish and interested motives, is 
therefore that cause a bad one ? Certainly not. 



140 



SLAVERY. 



How much ill-temper has been exhibited, and 
how many unjustifiable means have been used 
in the promotion and establishment of Chris- 
tianity in the world ; yet who would say that 
therefore Christianity is a bad thing, and pure 
religion an evil ? But we might say this with 
just as much propriety, as to pronounce the 
cause of anti-slavery a bad cause on account of 
the errors of its professed friends and advocates. 
All men are liable to err in the means they em- 
ploy for any object, and never should such er- 
rors be allowed to prejudice us against the true 
character and the real merits of any good cause. 
Now allowing, which, however, let me say again, 
I do not allow, that all the charges against Ab- 
olitionists are true to their full extent, that does 
not detract one whit from the real merits of the 
cause they are engaged in, nor does it lessen one 
whit our obligation to regard that cause with 
favor, or to labor for its success. That obliga- 
tion rests upon us as a part of our Christian 
duty, and is as much a part of that duty as any 
other. When, therefore, this cause is presented 
to our consideration, it is perfectly idle to begin 
to denounce and vilify the Abolitionists ; for this 
is but using their weapons in a very useless and 
unprofitable contest, and is employing ourselves 
the very means which we most loudly object 



SLAVERY. 



141 



against in them. In no view that we can take 
of their errors can they be deemed any justifi- 
cation of our indifference, negligence, or hostil- 
ity to their cause. Our relation to that cause 
does not come to us through them, but through 
the religion which God has given us by Jesus 
Christ, and which we acknowledge to be of di- 
vine authority and obligation. Until, then, it 
can be shown that this religion sanctions the 
grossest oppression, encourages licentiousness in 
its most abhorrent forms and consequences, and 
looks with favor upon the degradation, pollution, 
and moral ruin of those whom God made in his 
own image, and for whom Christ died, — until 
this can be made plainly, yea, undeniably, to 
appear, all indifference and hostility to the cause 
of anti-slavery is both criminal and inexcusable, 
whatever be the character of the persons or the 
measures most actively employed in its promo- 
tion. 

A third reason that is alleged to justify indif- 
ference or hostility to this cause by many is, 
that the success of the anti-slavery movement 
will be prejudicial to their pecuniary interests. 
I would fain hope, for the honor of human na- 
ture, that this reason exercises but little influ- 
ence, did not experience teach the contrary. 
We all know that the same reason has been, and 



142 



SLAVERY. 



Still continues to be, one of the greatest obstacles 
to the success of the Temperance cause. How 
difficult have we found it to convince the rum- 
seller of the iniquity of his traffic, because his 
pecuniary interests were favored by that traffic. 
And he has been willing so to promote those inter- 
ests, notwithstanding the wretchedness and mis- 
ery he was constantly producing by his business. 
He, then, who is unwilling that slavery should 
be in any way interfered with, lest his pecuniary 
interests should suffer, places himself on the 
same moral level with the justly despised rum- 
seller ; for he, too, is encouraging, for the sake of 
its profit to himself, what to many others is, in 
its natural tendencies and results, wholly and 
only evil. They are both actuated by the same 
principle, the love of money; and by this princi- 
ple are they led to regard the dearest rights and 
blessings of their fellow-men as of no conse- 
quence, in comparison with worldly gain. I 
have illustrated the point now before us by the 
case of the rum-seller, because that is a case with 
which we are already familiar, and because it 
enables me to present the point clearly, and in a 
few words. Let us, then, only apply the same 
course of reasoning to the advocate of slavery 
on the ground of pecuniary interest that we do 
to him who will not give up the rum traffic be- 



SLAVERY. 



143 



cause he makes money by it, and the conclusion 
to which we shall be brought will be precisely 
the same in both cases. Slavery may add to 
our riches, and so may intemperance. But in 
neither case can it be but by an expense of deg- 
radation, wretchedness, and woe, which every 
man, so far as he is at all controlled by moral 
principle, would shrink from as he would from a 
personal and deadly evil. 

A fourth reason alleged in support of the in- 
difference or hostility of which I have spoken 
is, the plea that slavery is no concern of ours, 
and we can do nothing for its removal. In re- 
plying to this objection, I use the words of an- 
other, and say. We can do much. We have a 
power mightier than armies, — the power of 
truth, of principle, of right, of religion, of love. 
We have a power which is growing with every 
advance of civilization, before which the slave- 
trade has already fallen, which is mitigating the 
sternest despotisms, which is spreading educa- 
tion through all ranks of society, which is bear- 
ing Christianity to the ends of the earth, which 
carries in itself the pledge of destruction to ev- 
ery institution that debases humanity. Who 
can measure the power of Christian })hilanthro- 
py, of enlightened goodness, pouring itself forth 
in prayers and persuasions from the press and 



144 



SLAVERY. 



pulpit, from the lips and hearts of devoted men, 
and more and more binding together the wise 
and good in the cause of human welfare ? All 
other powers may fail. This must triumph. 
It is leagued with God's omnipotence. It is 
God himself, acting in the hearts of his children. 
It has an ally in every conscience, in every hu- 
man heart, in the wrong-doer himself. This 
spirit has but begun its work on earth. It is 
breathing itself more and more through litera- 
ture, education, institutions, and public opinion. 
Slavery cannot stand before it. Great moral 
principles, pure and generous sentiments, cannot 
be confined to this or that spot. They cannot 
be shut out by territorial lines, or local legisla- 
tion. They are divine inspirations, and partake 
of the omnipresence of their Author. The de- 
liberate, solemn conviction of good men through 
the world, that slavery is a grievous wrong to 
human nature, will make itself felt. To in- 
crease this moral power is every man's duty. 
To embody and express this great truth is in 
every man's power ; and thus every man can do 
something to break the chain of the slave. 

But now, allowing all this to be true, and that 
we are convinced that it is our duty to deepen 
and strengthen the general conviction of the evil 
of slavery, what are we to do for this purpose ? 



SLAVERY. 



145 



For an answer to this inquiry, I refer to the di- 
rection of my text, — ''Remember them who 
are in bonds, as bound with them." This is one 
specification under the great and general rule of 
Christian action, — Do unto others as ye would 
that they should do unto you." Had this rule 
been obeyed with that fidelity which its propri- 
ety and authority alike claim for it in all the op- 
erations that have been put forth thus far in the 
cause of emancipation, I verily believe that slav- 
ery would ere this have been banished from our 
land. " Remember them who are in bonds, as 
bound with them." Let us place ourselves in 
their condition, and then asi^, What should we 
wish to be done for ourselves ? We should wish 
for the prayers, the sympathy, and the compas- 
sionate and consistent efforts for our relief of all 
who could truly appreciate the miseries we en- 
dured. This, then, is the rule of our duty. We 
are to pray for the enslaved, to sympathize with 
them, and to put forth our earnest and constant 
efforts in their behalf. 1 will not detain you by 
discussing the various particulars involved in the 
rule of our text ; but will simply say that it is 
one which we may safely follow, and the ob- 
servance of which will lead us to proper and 
efficient measures, and to the otily proper and ef- 
ficient measures, for the removal of this mon- 
10 

I 



146 



SLAVERr. 



strous evil. And let us not fail to remember 
that this is not a direction which we may or 
may not obey, as we see fit. Like all the other 
commands and injunctions of our religion, it is 
of divine authority, — it was given for our guid- 
ance, — it points to one part of our Christian 
duty ; and it is a part of our duty which has 
the highest claims upon our consideration. For 
to recognize our own spiritual nature in the 
down-trodden and oppressed ; to recognize as 
brethren the poor, the forsaken, the outcast, and 
the slave ; to labor for their elevation and res- 
toration to the rights and blessings of our com- 
mon humanity ; this is the chief way in which 
we are to manifest the spirit of Him who came 
to raise the fallen, and to save the lost, to preach 
deliverance to the captive, and set at liberty 
them that are bound. 



SERMON VII. 



UNITARIANISM THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 

FOR AS THE BODY WITHOUT THE SPIRIT is' DEAD, SO FAITH 

WITHOUT WORKS IS DEAD ALSO. — James ii. 26. 

In these words of the Apostle are expressed the 
two great fundamentals of religion. These are 
declared to be faith and works, or belief and prac- 
tice. In all the descriptions of religion given 
in the sacred volume, these requisitions are in- 
separably united, — they form one consistent 
whole. Take either away, and the other is use- 
less, unprofitable, dead. On the one hand, faith 
is to works what the fountain is to the stream 
which it supplies, what the tree is to the fruit 
which it produces. On the other hand, as there 
could be no stream were there no fountain to 
supply its waters, and as there could be no fruit 
were there no tree to produce it, so there can be 



148 



UNITARIANISM 



no works, that is, religious works, unless they 
spring from and are the fruits of faith. 

We perceive, then, how indissohibly united are 
these constituents of religion ; either without the 
other " is dead, being alone." It is, therefore, a 
most important point, in order to a correct knowl- 
edge of our religion, tounderstand what is meant 
by this faith and what is meant by these works, — 
what Christianity requires us to believe and to do. 

In this discourse I shall attempt, as briefly and 
as plainly as I can, to answer these inquiries; — 
and in so doing I hope to make it appear to your 
satisfaction that the system of Christianity which 
is preached here is that, and that only, which the 
gospel reveals and enjoins. 

1. In the first place. What does Christianity 
require us to believe ? What are the truths 
which were taught by our blessed Saviour for 
the instruction, the regeneration, the salvation of 
men ? To answer this question thoroughly 
would be to quote the whole gospel,— the 
whole record of the teachings, actions, suff"erings, 
death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ. But 
as you all have this record, I shall present a sum- 
mary of these truths, leaving you to judge of its 
correctness by that only infallible standard of 
Christian truth. 

Christianity requires us to believe that there is 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 149 

one God, — a Being of infinite perfection, — a 
pure Spirit, — the Author, Sovereign, and Father 
of the universe, — the Source of truth, purity, and 
love, — the Spring of peace and joy, — the Giver 
of all blessings, — the Ruler of all worlds, — who 
exercises an unrestricted and impartial suprema- 
cy over all beings and all events. 

That this God is one God, one only, without 
equal, rival, or partner. 

That this Being, infinitely perfect in his moral 
attributes, maintains a moral government over 
the universe, by which all intelligent creatures 
are made subject to wise and immutable laws, 
which have for their end the promotion of the 
greatest virtue and the greatest happiness. 

That man is the subject of this moral govern- 
ment, under which he is treated as a free moral 
agent, capable of improvement and liable to err, 
capable of choosing between right and wrong, 
and accountable for the choice he makes. 

That in this world he is placed in a state of 
trial and probation, into which he comes with a 
nature adapted to this state, — a nature endowed 
with rational and moral powers. 

That these powers are reason and conscience, 
which approve goodness and lead to it ; and the 
passions and appetites, which, being connected 
with sensual objects and present gratifications, 
incline to self-indulgence and sin. 



150 



UNITARIANISM 



That man's trial consists principally in the 
struggle for mastery between these two parts of 
his constitution, — called in Scripture "the law 
in the members and the law in the mind," — "the 
flesh and the spirit," — the object of which trial 
is to exalt and purify his spiritual nature, and de- 
liver it from subjection to the sensual. 

That in order to assist man in this great strug- 
gle, — to which, from natural infirmities, he was 
so often found unequal, — it pleased God to send 
his Son, Jesus Christ, to communicate all the 
knowledge, encouragement, and aid, and to set 
before him all the motives, which might be ne- 
cessary to his success and happiness. 

That in the truths and institutions of his gos- 
pel, Christ has made a provision of means which 
it is for man to employ, and which he is left at 
liberty to use or to reject ; so that no one will be 
saved except through his own exertion, or will 
fail except through his own fault. 

That these means are, the instructions, life, 
death, and example of Christ ; the worship and 
ordinances of his institution ; the spiritual influ- 
ences granted in answer to prayer ; and the 
promises and threatenings of future retribution. 

That the terms of acceptance to divine favor 
are faith in Christ, repentance of sin, and a 
life of obedience ; that salvation is suspended 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 151 

on these conditions, — those who comply with 
them receiving through divine mercy the reward 
of everlasting happiness, while those who reject 
them are deservedly punished in the world to 
come. 

That as man had no claim to this revelation 
and aid from God, it is to be accounted the free 
gift of his grace, and therefore those who are 
saved by the gospel are saved, not because of 
their own merits or righteousness, not " by their 
good works," but by the grace of God. 

In this *summary of Christian truth are neces- 
sarily included a belief in the divine mission of 
Christ, — in his miracles, his perfect character, 
his authority as a teacher, his voluntary death, 
and his triumphant resurrection ; a belief in the 
necessity of personal repentance and obedience, 
and in the inseparable connection between good- 
ness and happiness on the one hand, and wick- 
edness and misery on the other ; belief in the im- 
mortality and accountability of man, in spiritual 
judgment and future retribution, and a belief in 
the forgiveness of sins, in the efficacy of prayer, 
and in the necessity of a thorough change, a mor- 
al regeneration, in each and every one who lives 
a sinful or careless life. 

I have here given you, my brethren, a sum- 
mary of the truths of our religion. Here are no 



152 



UNITARIANISM 



human speculations, no inferences of carnal 
wisdom. These are the undisputed doctrines of 
Christianity, — doctrines which all Christians ac- 
knowledge, which all profess, which all preach, 

— doctrines which stand out so prominently on 
the face of the gospel " that he who runs may 
read " them, and which all must and do allow to 
be among the fundamental principles of the reli- 
gion of Christ. 

And these are the doctrines of Unitarianism, 

— this is the belief of Unitarian Christians. 
Unitarianism, as a system of faith, consists, 

therefore, in the undisputed truths of Christiani- 
ty ; it is the common ground on which all Chris- 
tians stand, — " the essential faith of the Univer- 
sal Church." Whoever embraces this is, so far 
as belief is concerned, a Unitarian, and must be 
acknowledged by all to have, so far as this goes, 
a Christian faith. Whoever does not embrace 
this is not a Unitarian, neither is he a Christian. 

You will not understand me to mean by this, 
that no one can be a Christian who is not a pro- 
fessed Unitarian. I mean no such thing. But 
as Unitarianism consists of the faith common to 
all denominations of Christians, then by univer- 
sal consent no one can be accounted a Christian 
who does not embrace this faith. All Christians 
are Unitarians, and consequently all Unitarians 
are Christians so far as this faith goes. 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 153 



But there are some who account this an imper- 
fect, deficient faith, " good as far as it goes, but 
not going far enough." And therefore they 
would add to it, and their additions they regard 
as necessary and essential, as so important, indeed, 
that without them this faith is of no worth or 
power. I hope to convince you in the sequel of 
this discourse that these additions are of no prac- 
tical value whatever, and consequently that this 
charge of deficiency in our faith is utterly ground- 
less. And therefore I venture to remark here, 
that while nothing can be taken away from this 
faith without undermining the very foundation 
of Christianity, the additions which some would 
make are mere speculations, which may all be 
removed without the least injury to the cause or 
the truth of Christ. But take away these specu- 
lations, and you come to principles which cannot 
be rejected without vitally impairing Christiani- 
ty ; for they are themselves the religion which 
Christ taught, and on which depends the sal- 
vation of man, and these principles are Unita- 
rianism. On these, then, we may rest in perfect 
security, whatever men may say to the contrary. 
Let these be our foundation, and our ''faith will 
stand not in the wisdom of men, but in the pow- 
er of God " ; it will rest upon a rock against 
which superstition will rage in vain, and the 



154 



UNITARIANISM 



threats of bigotry be impotent, and against which 
even the gates of hell shall not prevail. 

2. I now proceed to the second inquiry, 
What shall we do? What are the works which 
Christianity demands ? I answer, such works or 
practice as a sincere belief in the doctrines of re- 
ligion naturally and necessarily produces. If we 
believe in God as our Creator, Preserver, Bene- 
factor, Witness, and Judge, we shall habitually 
act under a sense of these relations between God 
and ourselves. Love, reverence, gratitude, and 
devotion will be awakened in our bosoms. Our 
obligations to God will be ever present to our 
minds. We shall fear to offend him in thought, 
word, or deed. We shall delight to obey his 
commands and to conform to his will. 

If we believe in Christ as the being whom 
God hath sent to be our Redeemer and Mediator, 
and in whose name alone salvation can be gained, 
we shall have our souls drawn towards him with 
grateful love and implicit trust. We shall ven- 
erate and love him because he is the way, and 
the truth, and the life; because ^'no man can 
come to the Father but by him." We shall put 
our trust in him " because he is able to save to 
the uttermost all that do come to God by him." 
We shall look to him, then, as an all-sufficient, 
almighty Saviour, — for " all power has been 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 



155 



given him " to secure the eternal salvation of 
those that obey him. We shall look to him as 
the being to whom, next to God, we are indebted 
for the means of salvation, and the hope of ever- 
lasting life. The obedience which he requires 
we shall cheerfully render, knowing that he 
thatloveth him keepeth his commandments," and 
that " he that hath not the spirit of Christ is none 
of his." The ordinances of his institution will 
be faithfully complied with, since the authority 
of Christ is the authority of God, who sent him. 

If we believe that we are here in a state of tri- 
al and probation for an eternal v/orld, all the con- 
cerns of this life will be viewed by us in the 
light of eternity. The condition in which we 
are placed, and all the dispensations of Providence, 
will be improved by us as means of preparation 
for eternity. We shall not allow our affections 
to be fixed on the pleasures, or our minds to be 
absorbed by the cares, of earth. We shall be 
continually looking beyond this world to the 
next ; and our first and principal object will be 
" to work out our own salvation," — " to make 
our calling and election sure.'''' 

If we believe in a strict accountability to God, 
in an impartial judgment to come, by which we 
shall be rewarded or punished according to the 
deeds done in the body, we shall strive to purify 



156 



UNITARIANISM 



ourselves, to examine our hearts, to understand 
our characters, to correct what is in any degree 
evil, to view ourselves as God views us, and as 
the light of the judgment day will reveal us to 
ourselves, so that we may be able to give in our 
final account with joy and not with grief. 

If we believe in the necessity of repentance, 
we shall repent and amend our lives ; if in the 
efficacy of prayer-, we shall pray. 

If we believe that eternal salvation is the free 
gift of God's love, we shall account ourselves as 
having no claim to it by our own merit ; but, 
however perfect our obedience, however pure our 
virtue, we shall base onr sole dependence and 
our only hope of salvation on the free, unpur- 
chased, unmerited mercy of God. 

If, in fine, we believe that " the gospel is the 
power of God unto salvation to every one that 
helieveth," we shall embrace it with our whole 
hearts, and be controlled by its influence in every 
circumstance of our lives 

This, my brethren, is what we are to do. 
These arei^Ae ivorks which the gospel requires 
in order that faith may be efi'ectual, — those 
wotks without which " faith is dead, being alone," 

without which no man can be justified." 

But here perhaps it may be objected, that I 
have not enjoined any specific acts of obedience, 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 



157 



or outward duties, except the ordinances of Chris- 
tianity, and therefore doubts may yet remain as 
to the precise things which we are to do. But 
in this respect I have been as exphcit and partic- 
ular as the gospel is. I have enjoined a univer- 
sal obedience of the heart and the life ; but as to 
the particular modes or acts by which obedience 
is to be manifested, no rules of universal applica- 
tion can be given ; none are given by Christ. If 
we obey God at all, our obedience must be the 
fruit of our own convictions of duty, or it is not 
obedience ; the mere outward act, whatever it 
be, is of no value in the sight of God. The re- 
ligious obedience of any individual must, then, 
consist in the conscientious performance of such 
duties as belong to the peculiar condition or situ- 
ation of that individual. And as the circumstan- 
ces of human condition are in no two cases pre- 
cisely alike, no specific acts of duty, other than 
those mentioned, can be equally binding on each 
and every Christian. But the obedience of the 
will, the conscience, and the affections is required 
of all^ without exception ; and this is the obedi- 
ence which I have enjoined. 

We have now seen, my brethren, what is the 
faith and what are the works which the gospel 
of Christ reveals and enjoins. This faith and 
these works united constitute that system of reli- 



158 



UNITARIAN ISM 



gion denominated Unitarian Christianity. He 
who owns this faith, and strives conscientiously, 
in the fear of God, to perform these works, is a 
Unitarian Christian. Yet if he adopt this faith, 
but does not practise these works, he may be a 
Unitarian but he is not a Christian, — just as a 
man may be a strict Calvinist and not be a Chris- 
tian. Unitarian Christianity is practical Chris- 
tianity ; no man can be a Unitarian Christian 
who is not a practical Christian. However 
strongly he may believe in Unitarianism as a 
system of Christian truth, if he do not " heUeve 
with the heart unto righteousness''^ he is guilty 
of deceit and hypocrisy if he call himself a Chris- 
tian ; he brings a deep reproach on the cause of 
Christ and his church, he puts a stumbling- 
block in his brother's way. It is idle, it is im- 
pious, it is a wilful mockery of sacred things, for 
any to profess a belief in the truths of Christiani- 
ty unless they exemplify in their lives the prin- 
ciples of that religion. The only genuine believ- 
ers are they who " have their fruit unto holiness.'' 
As I said of the doctrines, I now say of both 
the doctrines and duties which I have mentioned, 
that they are undisputed truths and requirements 
of the gospe], which all Christians profess and en- 
join. They may not, I admit, comprise the 
whole of Christianity as some understand Chris- 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 159 



tianity, and such persons would therefore add to 
them. But, I repeat, all their additions may be 
removed or rejected, without the least injury to 
the value or the influence of Christianity as a di- 
vine system of truth, duty, and salvation. To 
prove that I do not make an unguarded, unau- 
thorized assertion, I will now proceed to show, that 
those additions which are so confidently enjoined 
as of vital consequence are in reality of no prac- 
tical value whatever. 

1. It is asserted and maintained that the doc- 
trine of the Trinity, that God exists in three per- 
sons, is essential to Christianity. If we believe 
in a God to whom we are strictly accountable, 
how is our accountability strengthened, how are 
our obligations increased, how are our relations 
to him and the duties consequent on those rela- 
tions at all affected, by believing that he exists in 
three persons ? With the mode of his existence we 
have nothing to do. It is beyond our apprehen- 
sion. It is high ; we cannot attain to it." Nor has 
he seen fit to reveal it. Our only concern, then, 
is with what is revealed, — the relations in which 
he stands to us, and we to him, and the duties 
on our part which grow out of these relations. 
But these relations and these duties are precisely 
the same whether God exist in three persons or 
in one person. The doctrine of the Trinity is 



160 



UNITARIANISM 



therefore, wholly unessential, and may be re- 
moved and Christianity be in no degree im- 
paired. 

2. It is maintained that the doctrine of the 
supreme divinity of Christ is essential to Chris- 
tianity. If we believe in Christ as our Redeem- 
er, Mediator, and all-sufficient Saviour, through 
whom alone everlasting life can be attained ; and 
if we practically acknowledge him in this char- 
acter and these relations, our Christian obliga- 
tions remain precisely the same whether we be- 
lieve in his deity, or humanity, or in both. The 
fact is, that he was sent of God to be our Sa- 
viour, and that he has power to secure the eter- 
nal salvation of all who obey him; — it is on these 
points on which it is of essential importance to 
be rightly informed, not as to his abstract na- 
ture and rank. But the doctrine of the supreme 
divinity of Christ is merely an opinion respecting 
his nature and rank ; it is therefore wholly unes- 
sential, and may be removed and Christianity be 
in no degree impaired. 

3. It is maintained that the doctrine of vica- 
rious atonement is essential to Christianity ; and 
this doctrine teaches that Christ offered himself 
on the cross a vicarious sacrifice to God, bore the 
penalty due to our sins, and thus satisfied the 
justice of God, and opened a way for our pardon 
and reconciliation. 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 



161 



Now if we believe that Christ has opened to 
us a way of reconciliation to God, that all obsta- 
cles to our pardon and acceptance are removed, 
— if we are assured of this fact, it is a matter 
of very inferior importance to us by what pre- 
cise mode this was accomplished. It is the fact 
with which we are concerned ; it is the assur- 
ance of salvation through Christ in which we 
are interested : this is what it is essential for 
us to know ; this is the point where error is 
dangerous ; not the manner of its accomplish- 
ment. But the fact is the same whether we 
believe that it was effected simply by the suffer- 
ings and death of Christ on the cross, or that 
his instructions, miracles, sufferings, death, res- 
urrection, and ascension were all means to this 
end. This view of the Atonement, then, may 
be rejected, and Christianity be in no degree 
impaired. 

These illustrations, though necessarily very 
brief, ought to convince you that all these addi- 
tions which men have made to the simple, fun- 
damental, practical principles of the gospel, and 
which are taught and enforced as essential parts 
of its system, are in reality, as before asserted, 
mere speculations, which may be entirely reject- 
ed without any injury to the power and efficacy 
of Christianity. I remark here, by way of cau- 
11 



162 



UNITARIANISM 



tion, that to establish this point is the only pur- 
pose for which these illustrations are intended. 
For I would not have you infer that I deem it 
of little consequence what opinions we adopt. 
No. I believe it to be of very great importance 
for every one to acquire fixed Scriptural views 
of Christian truth. I believe that a man is as 
much accountable to God for his belief as for his 
life, for his creed as for his practice. This ne- 
cessarily follows from the fact that God has 
made a full and perfect revelation by Jesus 
Christ, which is the only infallible standard of 
faith and practice. Consequently a Christian 
cannot consistently adopt opinions, however 
strongly they may be urged upon him, unless 
he sees for himself that they are clearly taught 
in the Scriptures of divine truth. These doc- 
trines to which I have alluded, and such as these, 
are the only points on which Christians disagree, 
and they have no bearing on practical Christian- 
ity. They belong solely to theology, — they 
do not touch religion. Take these away, and 
you have left the fundamental principles of 
Christianity; principles in which, as I have said, 
all Christians agree, and which principles consti- 
tute Unitarianism, — the faith which must be 
embraced, and the duties which must be prac- 
tised, by every one who claims to be a Chris- 
tian. 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 163 



Now, if Unitarianism does not go far enough, 
neither does any other system, and for this sim- 
ple, but sufficient, reason, that what is peculiar 
to other systems is not of a practical tendency, 
does not in any degree strengthen our obliga- 
tions to live a holy life, or help to form that re- 
ligious or Christian character which God requires 
of us. But this is acknowledged by all to be 
the one thing needful, and this is the sole end 
and aim of Unitarian Christianity. And I may 
say further, that what is peculiar to other sys- 
tems would be of no value whatever, separated 
from those truths which constitute Unitarian 
Christianity. 

I have now shown you that the disputed doc- 
trines of Christianity are of no practical value, 
that is, do not at all increase our obligations to 
love and serve God, or to reverence and obey 
the Saviour. But this alone does not settle the 
question of their acceptance or rejection. If 
they are revealed truths, if we find them in 
the record of the revelation which God made 
by Jesus Christ (and the presumption is, that, 
from the importance attached to them, they 
would be clearly stated, and strongly inculcated), 
— if, I rqpeat, we find these doctrines revealed 
there, then, as God's word is true, we must 're- 
ceive them ; we cannot reject them without im- 



5 



j 

164 UNITARIANISM j 

peaching the veracity of God. And on the oth- i 
er hand, if we do not find them revealed there, | 
we are equally bound to reject them ; if we do | 
not find them there, we cannot receive them as : 
revealed truths without impeaching the veracity ! 
of God. The very same duty to God and re- ! 
spect for his revelation which demand our re- : 
ception of them if revealed, demand our rejec- j 
tion of them if not revealed. The question of ' 
the acceptance or rejection of these doctrines 
depends, then, exclusively on the decision of ! 
one other question, namely, Are they or are they . 
not revealed in the gospel of Christ ? This is a j 
question which every one must answer for him- \ 
self by perso7ial investigation of the word of | 
God. Here alone can all doubts be solved ; and j 
the difficulties which are originated by the oppo- | 
sition of sects, not by the obscurity of Scripture, 
be removed and settled. And here I take the I 
opportunity to state what I understand by a doc- i 
trine's being clearly revealed in Scripture. For 
example, I am told, that the doctrine of the 
Trinity is a doctrine of the Bible. And what is : 
the language which expresses this doctrine ? It i 
is this : — " There are three persons in the God- 
head ; the Father, the Son, and the Hply Ghost, j 
and these three are one God, the same in sub- i 
stance, equal in power and glory.'' Now there i 

i 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 165 



is no such language as this in the Bible, — no 
one pretends to find it there. We find it in the 
creeds of churches, and we hear it in sermons ; 
but it is not in the Bible. On the contrary, the 
Apostle Paul says, To us, Christians, there is 
one God, the Father." And Christ, in prayer to 
the Father, calls him the only true God. These 
expressions plainly declare the simple unity of 
God, his existence in one person, in opposition 
to the doctrine that he exists in three persons. 
Now, in order to believe in the Trinity on Scrip- 
tural evidence, I must not only not find these 
expressions in the Bible, but I must find the lan- 
guage which expresses the doctrine of the Trin- 
ity. If both are there, then they neutralize 
each other, and so neither is true. If one is 
there and the other not, then I must receive that 
which is there, or I am guilty of substituting 
my fallible reason for the revealed truth of God. 
The doctrine of the simple unity of God is de- 
clared in Scripture as plainly as language can 
express it ; the passages to which I have alluded 
are decisive of the point. If there were no oth- 
ers, these would be enough. I therefore am not 
at liberty to infer or believe any doctrine which 
interferes with this, and every doctrine which 
we affirm to belong to Christianity should be 
stated with equal clearness in the Scriptures, and 



166 



UNITARIANISM 



in this way should every professed doctrine of 
Christianity be brought to the test. 

It has been my object to show you that the 
system of Christianity which is here preached 
is the religion of the gospel, consisting of the 
doctrines and the duties which God sent his 
Son, Jesus Christ, to proclaim to a sinful world 
for its regeneration and salvation. This, my 
brethren, is a religion which will teach us how 
to live, and how to die. It will be our protec- 
tion and safety in life, and a sure support in 
death. But this, as you know, is denied. There 
is a charge against our faith which directly con- 
tradicts this assertion ; a charge most zealously 
trumpeted by the opposers of our faith. It is 
this : — That Unitarianism is good to live by, 
but will not do to die by.'^ In the spirit of 
charity which 1 hope ever to cherish towards 
all whose religious opinions are opposed to my 
own, I declare to those who bring this " rail- 
ing accusation," that they " understand neither 
what they say, nor whereof they affirm'^; ig- 
norance of our faith can be the only palliation 
for their presumption. I challenge any one to 
produce from the whole Christian community, 
and through the whole history of Christianity, 
one single case in which a person had em- 
braced Unitarianism from personal investigation 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 167 



and conviction, and who had conscientiously 
regulated his life by it, but who found it an in- 
sufficient support in the hour of death. I af- 
firm before the world, that not one solitary in- 
stance of this kind can be produced from the 
whole annals of Christianity. I do not say this 
in a spirit of boasting, nor for rhetorical effect, 
nor because I am not fully aware of its strength 
of expression, and the extent to which it reach- 
es. I say it because it is true, and cannot be 
gainsaid. I say it because the truth of God 
requires it ; for, if what is preached and pro- 
fessed under the name of Unitarianism be not 
the truth which God revealed by Jesus Christ, 
it ought to be abandoned ; it has no claims on 
our sympathy, our respect, or our adoption. But 
as the gospel of Christ is true, Unitarianism is 
the truth of God ; and one most weighty evi- 
dence to this point is, that it consists, as I have 
shown, in those principles which all Christians 
contend for as fundamental gospel truths. These 
principles are found in the professed faith of ev- 
ery denomination of Christians ; they may be 
mingled with and obscured by other and oppos- 
ing principles, but there they are, and there, too, 
as in our professed faith, they are fundamental 
principles, which cannot be removed without 
essentially destroying the power, efficacy, and 



168 



UNITARIANISM 



vitality of the system of which they form a 
part, and leaving it "as the body without spirit, 
deady And these are the principles on which 
every Christian relies for support in a dying 
hour. It is not the abstract doctrines that have 
been held, not the peculiarities of a creed, that 
give strength, and comfort, and hope at that time. 
These are all passed by as of themselves unim- 
portant and inefficient for the case. But it is 
on the unchanging principles of the gospel that 
the soul of the dying Christian confidently and 
peacefully leans; on the love of God as our 
Father, our constant Benefactor, our unfailing 
Friend ; on his promised mercy and forgiveness to 
the penitent ; on Christ, as a heaven-sent and all- 
sufficient Saviour ; on his love for us, which was 
stronger than death ; on his submissive death, 
and triumphant resurrection ; on the immortal 
life which he brought to light, and on his assur- 
ance of acceptance to that life of all who come to 
God by him. These, and such as these, are the 
stay and support of the Christian in the trying 
hour of his final departure. From these he de- 
rives that comforting and sustaining faith that 
enables him humbly, yet trustfully, to say, Fa- 
ther, into thy hands I commend my spirit." And 
these are the essential principles of Unitarianism. 
And now will any one say that the man who 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 169 



believes and practises these doctrines dare not 
meet death ? Will any one assert that a man 
must abandon Unitarianism in order to die in 
peace, and in the hope of the acceptance of God ? 
Abandon Unitarianism ! What ! Abandon vir- 
tue, goodness, and love ! Abandon holiness, pi- 
ety, and faith ! Throw . yourself off from the 
mercy of that God in whom you have humbly 
trusted ! Abandon Christ as your only and all- 
sufficient Saviour ! But all this must be done 
in order to abandon Unitarianism ; — and thus 
we see the folly and absurdity of this charge 
which is so triumphantly brought against it. 
And thus do we have a convincing illustration 
and proof of the great and important truth which 
I have endeavoured to impress, that Unitarianism 
consists of those fundamental principles of Chris- 
tianity which cannot be given up without giving 
up Christianity itself. 

My brethren, let this Christianity be our real 
faith and our habitual practice, and we shall 
then know of its efficacy in life, and it will not 
fail to prepare us for the hour of death. Indeed, 
the only way in which we can be prepared by 
religion for death is by making it our compan- 
ion and friend through life ; by establishing its 
authority in our souls, and experiencing its influ- 
ence in all the varied circumstances to which 



iro 



UNITARIANISM 



we are here subjected. He, and he only, who 
is thus comforted and blessed in his progress 
through life can be devoid of all fear when his 
life is drawing to its close. He has felt the 
power of religion in scenes of duty and of suf- 
fering, of trial and moral danger. He knows 
the arm on which he leans. He has already 
enjoyed the fulfilment of the promise, " I will 
never leave thee nor forsake thee," and on this 
promise he relies with unshaken confidence when 
called to pass through the dark valley of the 
shadow of death. To him death comes, not as 
a messenger of dread and terror, unveiling be- 
fore his eyes an eternity from which he shrinks 
with fearful apprehension ; but as a messenger 
from the Father whom he has loved and served, 
to take him to himself, — to lead him away from 
further struggles with temptation and sin, to the 
rich and unfading recompense of heavenly bless- 
edness. 

But, on the other hand, how lamentable, how 
deplorable, is his condition, who, in this awful 
season, when nothing but the hopes and prom- 
ises of the gospel can sustain the departing soul, 
has not this support to rest upon ! O, on what 
a slender thread must his hopes hang, who, at 
this time of extremity, is just awakened to a 
sense of the infinite importance of that religion 



THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 171 

• which through life has been wilfully neglected, 
or known only in its outward forms ! No won- 
der that the shadows of death, as they gather 
around and close in upon him with a sure pro- 
gression, bring with them the gloom of despond- 
ency, the darkness of despair. No wonder that 
he cries loudly and mournfully for help. Fear 
and alarm have seized upon his soul ; the judg- 
ment-seat of an offended God is before him ; the 
dreadful sentence of condemnation is already 
ringing in his ears. No wonder that he grasps 
with the eagerness of desperation at any hand 
held out for his support, and embraces willingly 
any offer of rescue or alleviation from the terrors 
which surround him ; for the time of probation 
is just expiring, — the retributions of eternity 
have already visited their victim ! 

God in his mercy grant that such may never 
be our experience. And would you, my breth- 
ren, avoid this scene of suffering ? Would you 
divest the closing scene of life of all that can 
terrify or alarm ? Would you go to the bed of 
death with the same freedom from alarm with 
which you go nightly to the bed of repose ? 
There is but one way by which this can be ef- 
fected. Make religion your trust now ; give to 
God and duty your lives as they pass, and death 
will bring you only an increase of happiness. 



173 UNITARIANISM THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL. 

Receive Christ as your Saviour by faith and 
obedience. Let his religion be your counsellor, 
your familiar friend, the companion of your daily 
walk ; test its power to sustain you in all the 
duties and the trials of this earthly probation, 
and its support will not fail you in that decisive 
hour which closes your mortal probation. It 
will enable you to triumph over the pains of the 
Body, and the fear of death, and open before you 
the mansions in your Father's house, as the ev- 
erlasting and ever blessed home of your soul. 



SERMON VIIL 



GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 

VERILY, VERTLY, I SAY UNTO YOU, HE THAT BELIEVETH ON ME, 
THE WORKS THAT I DO SHALL HE DO ALSO ) AND GREATER 
WORKS THAN THESE SHALL HE DO. — John xiv. 12. 

The principal object of our Saviour in his 
personal ministry was to establish the fact of his 
divine mission ; to impress the conviction, that 
he came not in his own name, to seek his own 
glory, to do his own will ; and that the truths 
which he revealed, the doctrines he taught, and 
the commands he enforced, were neither the 
offspring of his own imagination, nor the results 
of his own investigation. For his religion, he 
claimed a heavenly origin ; for himself, he claim- 
ed to be a teacher sent from God. As a divine 
teacher, and with a message from God, he was 

sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel " ; 
but the religion he taught was as abhorrent to 



174 GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 



them as it was unexpected. Not only did it 
oppose their dearest hopes, and their most cher- 
ished prejudices, both national and religious, but 
it also required of them, as if in very mockery 
of their boasted pretensions, an entire change 
of moral character, and the total abandonment 
of that hereditarj^ claim to the peculiar favor of 
God, which, as the children of Abraham, they 
so sacredly cherished. 

In order, then, that this religion, thus subver- 
sive of all they held dear and sacred, might ob- 
tain reception, it was necessary that it should be 
accompanied with the clearest evidence that it 
was in truth a message from God, and that he 
who proclaimed it was God's authorized messen- 
ger. For without such evidence, the most sat- 
isfactory and complete, it would have been a 
vain hope to displace the prejudices which had 
become, in the Jewish mind, a part of its very 
growth and character. To this end, therefore, 
and to this end only, — that the divine origin of 
his religion should be incontrovertibly establish- 
ed, — was our Lord endowed with the gifts of 
supernatural power and wisdom. To this end 
was he enabled to do works " which no man 
could do unless God were with him," and to 
speak as never man spake." The miracles 
which God did by him " were indisputable evi- 



GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 175 



dence of the high authority by which he acted ; 
that he came* in the name and by the authority 
of his God and Father in heaven ; that the reli- 
gion he taught was " the word of God " ; and 
that the evidence by which it was confirmed 
was the power of God ; — or, to use his own lan- 
guage, that it was the Father that dwelt in him ; 
the Father that wrought his miracles ; the Fa- 
ther that taught him, and spoke by him ; and 
that of himself he could do nothing. On the 
fact thus clearly and strongly stated, the whole 
foundation of his religion rested. To this fact 
was he continually and directly referring, both 
in his public instructions, and, more especially, 
in private to his disciples. Indeed, the preju- 
dice and bigotry by which he was constantly 
surrounded rendered it in the*highest degree 
essential that his peculiar connection with God 
should be the frequent theme of his discourses, 
as well as the subject of miraculous confirma- 
tion. 

It was with reference to this fundamental 
truth that the words of my text were addressed 
by our Saviour to his disciples. Verily, verily, 
I say unto you, he that believeth on me, the 
works that I do shall he do also ; and greater 
works than these shall he do." His own works, 
to which he here refers, were the miracles he 



176 GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 

wrought, — the works which he had just de- 
clared were done by the Father, and to which 
he appeals as infallible evidence of his divine 
authority. Believest thou not that I am in the 
Father and the Father in me ? the words that I 
speak unto you, I speak not of myself ; and the 
Father that dwelleth in me, he doeth the works. 
Believe me that I am in the Father and the Fa- 
ther in me ; or else believe me for the very 
works' sake." Let the miracles I perform con- 
vince you that I came from God, and am acting 
under his direction. The single object, then, 
of our Lord's miracles was to prove that the 
Father had sent him ; and with this their whole 
purpose was answered. They were but the cre- 
dentials of his authority, the seals of his com- 
mission, and were of value only so far as they 
promoted the great purposes of his divine mis- 
sion. For that mission was given him for a far 
higher end than the exhibition of supernatural 
power. Jesus came to be the Saviour of men 
from sin and its inevitable consequences. He 
came to be the herald of life and immortality. 
He came to shed new light on the character of 
God, and on the condition, duty, and final desti- 
nation of man. He came to aiford man a mo- 
tive of action suited to the infinite capacities of 
his nature ; to bid him look beyond the confines 



' GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 177 

of this little life, and trace his glorious path- 
way onward, still onward, through an endless 
eternity ; ever improving in knowledge, virtue, 
and happiness ; ever approaching, but never 
reaching, the goal of his perfection. He came 
to teach a religion designed to elevate man 
above all that is frail and perishing ; to purify 
and exalt his nature ; to defend, comfort, and 
support him on earth, and in heaven to crown 
him with glory, honor, and immortality. These 
were the great purposes for which he was sent, 
and the single object of his miracles was, to 
show incontestably that these purposes origi- 
nated not with himself, but with God. Inval- 
uable, then, as were his miracles in establishing 
the divine origin of his religion, the moral pur- 
poses which the religion itself was designed to 
effect were infinitely " greater works " ; and, 
consequently, whoever should carry these pur- 
poses into effect would do greater works " than 
miracles. 

We thus learn, my brethren, the meaning of 
the declaration of our Saviour in my text. He 
tells his disciples, that, if they believed in him, 
they would receive power not only to perform 
miracles, but also to do greater works than these. 
To them it would be given to carry forward the 
great purposes which he had commenced ; to 
12 



178 GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 

spread through the world the knowledge of that 
religion which he had established with power 
from on high ; to press home upon men's hearts 
its invaluable truths, and the deep conviction of 
its infinite importance ; to urge upon them the 
acceptance of its blessings ; and to direct them 
into that narrow but glorious way which their 
Master had opened, and the termination of which 
is in heaven. These were the greater works 
which our Saviour declared should be done by 
his disciples, and the single end to which all 
these works tended, the great and only end for 
which the religion was given, was the spirit- 
ual regeneration of mankind. Inasmuch, there- 
fore, as this end is a greater work than the ex- 
hibition of supernatural power, are the moral 
purposes of the religion of Christ greater works 
than the miracles by which it was established. 

Need I, my brethren, urge this most obvious 
truth on your conviction? Need I speak of the 
infinite difference between healing, even by a 
word, the diseases of the body, and giving mor- 
al health and soundness to the soul? — between 
casting out the demon of insanity, in whose 
bonds reason had long been held an unwilling 
captive, and freeing the immortal mind from the 
stronger bonds of ignorance, superstition, and 
sin ? — between opening the eyes of the blind 



GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 179 

to the light and beauty of this brief life, and 
pouring in upon the undying soul the light of a 
blissful immortality? — between calling forth the 
dead man from his shroud and sepulchre, and 
enforcing the power of that religion over which 
the grave hath no victory, and to which death 
hath no sting ? I need not press so evident a 
truth. Both reason and revelation bear me wit- 
ness, that the regeneration of men from sin and 
misery to holiness and happiness is the greatest 
work to which any power can be applied. 

This great, this holy work, our Saviour com- 
missioned his disciples to perform, when he com- 
manded them to go and teach all nations, bap- 
tizing them into a belief of that religion of 
which the Father is the author, which the Son 
had revealed, and which is always accompanied 
by the holy spirit of its author. To this work 
did they successfully apply themselves. It was 
their high prerogative etfectually to inculcate the 
divine instructions which they had received of 
their Master ; to press on others the sublime 
doctrines of which their own hearts and minds 
were fall ; to teach to all nations that which the 
heathen had never known, and which with the 
Jews had degenerated into the mere repetition 
of idle, unmeaning ceremonies, — the genuine 
worship of God in all its purity and blessed in- 



180 GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 

fluences. It was their happy privilege to en- 
lighten the minds of their countrymen with 
respect to the character and government of the 
one true God, t-lie universal Father of mankind, 
of whom they had selfishly regarded themselves 
as the exclusive favorites ; and to proclaim to 
the Gentile world, that " of a truth God is no 
respecter of persons, but, in every nation, he 
that feareth him and worketh righteousness is 
accepted with him." They were enabled also 
to communicate to the world at large the knowl- 
edge of the duties which God requires, and the 
glorious destination which awaits those who 
faithfully practise them. And while they pro- 
claimed these truths, the miracles they were per- 
mitted to perform were conclusive evidence of 
their divine origin, and of their own authority 
to teach them. Thus did those believers in 
Christ to whom my text was immediately ad- 
dressed literally fulfil the words of their Master, 
by doing not only such miraculous works as he 
did, but also greater works than miracles ; as 
much greater as the moral purposes which the 
religion was intended to accomplish exceed in 
importance the evidence by which the religion 
was substantiated. 

But, although the declaration of my text was 
thus particularly applicable to the first disciples 



GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 181 



of Christ, and was by them thus happily veri- 
fied, yet does it also have a direct application to 
believers in every age of his church. The words 
of Christ are the same yesterday, to-day, and 
for ever ; and though many long years have 
passed away since those of my text were spok- 
en, it is equally true now as then, that whoever 
believeth in Christ shall do greater works than 
miracles. The gift of miracles has indeed pass- 
ed away with the circumstances which required 
their aid. They were the means of the intro- 
duction of our religion, in conformity to the 
needs and condition of the age in which it first 
appeared ; an age of such gross moral darkness 
as to preclude the true character and purposes of 
our religion from being so appreciated as to af- 
ford in themselves sufiicient evidence of its truth. 
It was necessary, therefore, that evidence should 
be presented to the senses ; that the power of 
God should immediately and visibly interpose to 
point out the revealer of his will. This alone 
was the evidence which was available with the 
men of that age ; and they believed that Jesus 
was a teacher sent from God, not because of the 
sublime truths which he taught of God and the 
spiritual world ; not because of the perfect adap- 
tation of his religion to the nature and the wants 
of man ; not because his character in its orig- 



182 GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 

inality, beauty, elevation, and spirituality, was 
immeasurably above that of every divine teacher 
they had previously acknowledged, immeasura- 
bly above the age in which he lived, and above 
the highest standard of moral perfection which 
human conception had then reached ; not, in 
fine, because of any of those circumstances to 
which we may now successfully appeal in proof 
of the divine origin of his religion ; but simply 
and singly because no man could do the mira- 
cles which he did, unless God were with him. 
Had this evidence of miracles, then, not been 
given, the religion of Jesus would, in all human 
probability, never have been established. But 
it was given ; it did its work ; the religion was 
established ; and from that time to this, it has 
been diffusing its spiritualizing influences, till it 
has brought us to the state of moral light and 
privilege which we now enjoy. The necessity 
which called for miraculous evidence exists no 
longer. We need it not to convince us of the 
power, and beauty, and heavenly origin of the 
spiritual kingdom of Christ. That kingdom is 
among us. Its influences pervade all the cir- 
cumstances of our condition. Our domestic, so- 
cial, and civil institutions are all modified by its 
laws, are all held together and made instruments 
of happiness by its power. As believers in its 



GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 183 



truth, and participators in its blessings, and with 
the moral power which that belief imparts, and 
with the conviction of its value which the sense 
of its benefits should create, we, the Christian be- 
lievers of this age, are called upon to carry for- 
ward to a more perfect result those works greater 
than miracles which the religion is intended and 
fitted to accomplish. On us, as on the first be- 
lievers in Christ, is the same obligation imposed 
to give our efforts to the further regeneration of 
mankind by Christian principles and influences. 
The great work which they so successfully ex- 
ecuted has been continued through successive 
generations, until, in the providence of God, it 
is given to our charge, and we are required as 
believers in Christ to apply ourselves with fidel- 
ity, and according to our several abilities, to the 
momentous work thus committed to us. 

The work certainly is not less important now, 
than when it was first commenced. Length of 
time has not diminished its consequence, nor 
rendered less valuable the infinite truths on 
which it is founded. So far from this, it 
comes to us hallowed by the prayers and the 
blessings of the wise and good of past ages. 
It points us to the moral and intellectual im- 
provement, the civilization and refinement, of 
which it ever has been, and yet continues to be, 



184 GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 

the spring and the support ; and it demands of 
iiSj as we prize the advancement of our race in 
every thing essentially valuablej both in regard 
to the life that now is, and that which is to 
come, to be faithful to this high trust. 

The work certainly is not less important now, 
than when it was first commenced. The insen- 
sibility of men to the demands of the gospel is 
a fact that meets our observation in every quar- 
ter. Their attention is engrossed by the pur- 
suits of earth, to the exclusion of their eternal 
interests. The calls of God's word and provi- 
dence are unheeded amid the louder calls of 
sensual gratification and worldly gain. Reli- 
gious duty is looked upon rather as an unpleas- 
ant task, than as the reasonable and becoming 
service of dependent creatures to the good Giv- 
er of their every blessing. Vice stalks over our 
land with unblushing front, producing an untold 
amount of misery. And in but too many cases, 
gross sin is debasing the moral powers of its 
wretched victims, blotting out from their souls 
all traces of the image of God in which they 
were created, stealing from them every hope and 
every capacity of happiness, and leading them 
to sure and unutterable ruin. It is only the 
purifying influences of the gospel that can aff'ord 
an efl'ectual remedy for these sore and crying 



GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 185 

evils, and it rests entirely with ourselves to say 
whether the remedy shall be applied. 

Again. If the claims of common duties are 
enforced by the benefits which result from their 
practice ; if to supply the wants of the needy, 
to feed the hungry, and to clothe the naked, — 
if the transient good which charity thus accom- 
plishes is a sufficient motive for its exercise, — 
and who can doubt it ? — how much, how infin- 
itely, greater are the claims of that duty which 
is directed to the everlasting good of man, which 
feeds the hungry soul with the bread of life, and 
clothes its nakedness with the garment of eter- 
nal salvation ; which imparts moral strength and 
purity to our nature ; which frees the immortal 
soul from the enslaving bonds of sin, and bids 
it stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ has 
made us free ; which points out to man the no- 
blest objects to which his heaven-born energies 
can be directed, and opens to his moral view the 
only happiness that can fully satisfy the infinite 
wants of the spirit which animates him ! 

Once more. If we look back with a holy joy 
on the labors of Christians in past times ; if we 
regard with becoming gladness the progress 
which the gospel has already made, and the 
p6wer which it continues to exert ; and if, too, 
Ave are grateful that our own hearts are animated 



186 GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 

by its promiseSj and that we are permitted to 
rejoice in its privileges, let us remember, also, 
that on us it depends whether mankind shall 
continue to be blessed by these invaluable prom- 
ises and privileges. For we are the present ac- 
tors in the great system of Providence. On our 
instrumentality it depends, whether the spread 
of Christian truth, and the influence of Chris- 
tian duty, shall continue to advance. And there 
is no sentiment with which we can more nobly 
meet our obligations, than the profound convic- 
tion that on our conduct and example, in our 
several conditions, depend, in a very great de- 
gree, the improvement and happiness of those 
who, in their turn, shall follow us. Let us, then, 
bear it on our minds, as a constantly exciting 
motive of action, that it is equally incumbent 
on us, one and all, who call ourselves Christians, 

— no matter how limited may be our means, no 
matter how narrow the sphere of our influence, 

— equally incumbent on us as on the first disci- 
ples of Christ, to do our part to enlarge the 
bounds of his spiritual kingdom, to spread the 
knowledge of his religion in its purity, to in- 
crease its influence, and most especially to ex- 
emplify the character which it requires by the 
purity and usefulness of our lives ; thus to pro- 
mote the moral purposes of our religion by 
works greater than miracles. 



GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 1S7 



Finally, my brethren, if the importance of the 
duty I have now recommended is realized by us 
in any adequate degree, and if we are duly sen- 
sible how deeply we are obligated in its dis- 
charge, we surely ought to be active and earnest 
in promoting it to the full extent of our ability. 
The means of so doing lie all around us, and 
only the will is needed to embrace them. Ev- 
ery object designed singly and purely for the 
promotion of this cause should be cheerfully 
met by our aid. We should contribute to it by 
our substance, our prayers, and our personal ex- 
ertions. But the most efficient of all means is 
to purify our own hearts, to Christianize our own 
characters, and thus to exhibit to others the spir- 
it of that religion which we offer to their accept- 
ance, — thus to let our light so shine before 
men, that they, seeing our good works, may glo- 
rify our Father who is in heaven. True, we 
have no miraculous power to exercise in this 
cause, nor do we want it. Men can now be in- 
fluenced by moral motives ; their hearts are open 
to the power and beauty of spiritual truth ; they 
need not the evidence of miracles addressed to 
the outward sense to convince them that Chris- 
tianity is the truth of God. Let them see its 
power controlling the life ; its holy influence 
pervading the motives, and directing the pursuit 



188 GREATER WORKS THAN MIRACLES. 

of earthly objects ; let them witness sincerity 
and earnestness in seeking those ends which the 
gospel sets before us ; let them perceive that our 
religion is, in very deed, the spring of a refined 
and elevated happiness, and they will require no 
further evidence of its truth. They will go to 
the records of life and immortality ; there will 
they learn their obligations, and become in their 
turn zealous in performing those works of Chris- 
tian duty which are greater works than miracles. 
Thus, while we prepare our own souls for the 
promised heaven of virtue, we shall by the same 
means allure them to brighter worlds, and lead 
the way to heavenly happiness. 



SERMON IX, 



THE REST OF FAITH. 

COME UNTO ME, ALL YE THAT LABOR AND ARE HEATY LADEN, 

AND I WILL GIVE YOU REST. — Matthew xi. 28. 

These are the words of Jesus ; and they are 
full of compassion, encouragement, and hope ; — 
compassion for all the frail and suffering children 
of mortality ; encouragement to those who wish to 
be delivered from the evils of folly and sin ; and 
hope to all who will persevere in religious duty. 

Surrounded as we are by temptations, ex- 
posed to constant and pressing dangers, laboring 
under the toils and uncertainties of a probation- 
ary state, and, more than all, heavy laden with 
the burden of accumulated sins, — how truly 
applicable to our condition is this offer of heav- 
enly assurance, peace, and comfort ! It is an 
offer as wide as our wants, and universal in its 
application. It is addressed to all in every cir- 
cumstance of human condition, and to all it is a 
promise of relief and rest. 



190 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



As originally uttered, it referred primarily to 
the Jews, who were heavy laden with their cer- 
emonial laws, and the traditions of the elders. 
The Jewish religion at that time consisted al- 
most exclusively of the observance of outward 
rites and ceremonies. These had been multi- 
plying continually, as the regard for them in- 
creased, until they had become so numerous 
as to be intensely burdensome and oppressive. 
From these and all similar burdens, the religion 
of Christ affords permanent relief. It is a spir- 
itual religion, and, unlike the corrupted form of 
Judaism which then prevailed, it pays no regard 
to the outward service any farther than it is a 
medium of the worship of the heart and the 
understanding. It teaches that the outward act 
is available to ourselves and acceptable to God 
only when we have as much devotion as we ap- 
pear to express ; when it is used as a means of 
avoiding sin, or strengthening ourselves in holi- 
ness. It is not the body, but the soul, that we 
must bring to God in our religious services. If 
the heart be lifted to heaven in penitence, if the 
deep feeling of devotion pervade our bosoms, if 
gratitude and love, and the desire of improve- 
ment, and the purpose of obedience, are the offer- 
ings we lay on the altar of our God, the outward 
manifestation of our feelings, the visible form 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



191 



or mode in which our oblations are presented, 
may well be regarded as matters of entire indif- 
ference. The ordinances of our religion are 
few in number, and simple and easy in their ob- 
servance. They depend for their efficacy ex- 
clusively on the sincerity of purpose with which 
they are engaged in ; they are such as may be 
observed in all ages, all climates, under every 
form of civil government, and every outward 
condition of man. 

Thus was the religion of Christ adapted to 
afford rest or relief to those who were burdened 
by the multiplied rites of the ceremonial law, 
and the observances of Jewish superstition. 

But we are not to confine this relief, as I 
have already intimated, to this single class of 
evils. It is directly applicable to all to which 
human nature is subjected ; and I proceed to 
consider its particular application to a few addi- 
tional cases. 

1. In the first place, man is made to labor for 
his subsistence. It is a law of our nature, that 
our active powers of body and mind must be 
exercised. The necessity thus laid upon us is 
too imperative to be neglected. Nor is it neg- 
lected. The world abounds with schemes and 
projects, inventions and operations, which de- 
mand perpetual labor. Men are everywhere busy 



192 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



in accomplishing their various enterprises for the 
acquisition of competence, or wealth, or luxury. 
Earth resounds through all its climes with the 
sound of universal traffic ; and the face of ev- 
ery sea under heaven is whitened by the sails of 
commerce. And in all this there is nothing in- 
consistent with the great end of Christianity. 
It is not to this, then, that our religion would 
offer rest. As with regard to outward religious 
observances, so as to these visible manifestations 
of the active faculties of man, Christianity looks 
deeper than the surface.' It does not prohibit 
honest industry, nor close any channel through 
which it may consistently flow. Its aim is not 
to check, but to guide and sanctify, the activity 
and enterprise of men. And therefore, while it 
inculcates and commends diligence in business, 
it commands also, that we join with that dili- 
gence fervor of spirit in the service of God. It 
would have us remember, while we labor for 
the things that perish, that we should also labor 
yet more earnestly for the imperishable soul, 
and that our best treasures should be laid up in 
heaven. It asks. For what purpose, what end, is 
all this business, and toil, and labor ? To what 
end do you thus load yourselves with care and 
anxiety ? To what end is this accumulation of 
property, this heaping together of gold and sil- 



THE REST OF FAITH. 193 

ver, this adding field to field, till there is no 
place ? Is it that you may relieve the necessi- 
ties of those who, in the providence of God, are 
prohibited from labor, and made dependent on 
your sustaining care ? Is it that you may hush 
the cry of the famishing orphan, and wipe away 
the tears of the helpless widow ? Is it that you 
may have the means of alleviating the distress 
of every kind which by the constitution of 
things exists around you, and which is all re- 
movable by human agency ? Is it that by your 
instrumentality the gospel may be preached to 
the poor ; that its consolations may be carried to 
the home of the destitute, who have no other 
friend but God ; and that its divine power may 
be effectually opposed to the course of sin in 
all its forms ? Are these the holy purposes for 
which you bear so cheerfully the burden of 
business, the weight of care and trouble ? And 
are you supported under them by the sustaining 
sense of being instruments in the hands of Prov- 
idence in accomplishing its wise and beneficent 
designs ? And is the conviction that you are 
stewards of God's bounty, that you are faithful- 
ly doing God service in the sphere where he has 
placed you, and that it is through his aid and 
blessing that you do it, — is this at once the 
motive which guides, and the recompense which 
13 



194 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



rewards, you ? " Then," would Christianity say 
to you, "then, my children, pursue your career 
of business and of duty, of temporal profit, and 
heavenly reward. As your riches increase, con- 
tinue by your benevolent use of them to lay up 
for yourselves a good foundation against the 
time to come, that you may lay hold on eternal 
life ; and then, though your earthly treasures 
should all decay or come to naught, the treasures 
which you are thus laying up in heaven are as 
imperishable as the immortal spirit which owns 
them, and the happiness they impart can never 
know d.cay. You already have the rest which 
I offer, — peace in your own souls, peace with 
God,— 

' Peace that ever shall endure, 
Rest eternal, sacred, sure.' " 

But it may be that these are not the purposes 
for which you load yourselves with the cares of 
business, — these may not be the objects for 
which you acquire, nor the modes in which you 
employ, your wealth. It may be that the mo- 
tive which induces you to bear the burden of 
toil and care is nothing more, or better, than 
pure selfishness. It may be your own pleasure 
that you seek ; the means of greater indulgences, 
or of a more ostentatious display of wealth, or 
the mere reputation or consciousness of being 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



195 



rich. If these, or such as these, objects consti- 
tute the aim and end of your efforts, then truly 
do you labor, and are heavy laden ; and your 
self-imposed burden is not only a weariness to 
the flesh, but also a crushing weight on the mor- 
al and immortal nature ; pressing down to earth 
what was made for heaven ; binding to the ser- 
vice of sense the powers which were given to 
point out, to work out, your eternal salvation. 
O, how sad is the degradation to which we vol- 
untarily subject ourselves, when we bring down 
our heaven-born powers to be slaves to the vani- 
ties of this passing world! Think of it one 
moment. What a degradation for a man, made 
in the image of God, the partaker of a divine 
nature, endowed with capacities of honor and 
glory for the full development and exercise of 
which nothing less than eternity can suffice, — 
what a degradation for such a being to tie him- 
self down to the narrow circle of the things of 
time and sense ; to be satisfied with the happi- 
ness which they can give ; and to enlist in this 
pursuit the energies of his soul, his heaven-in- 
spired soul, in which are the germs of infinite 
power, unconquerable virtue, and inconceivable 
glory ! What a price is this, my brethren, which 
the world demands of us for permission to give 
ourselves exclusively to its service! 



196 THE REST OF FAITH. 

Nor is this all. Add to this the thought of 

the ultimate purpose of our being. Go with the 
tried and faithful Christian over the barrier of 
death. Follow him into that immortal life, to 
inherit which has been the great object of his 
efforts. See him there constantly progressing 
in knowledge, holiness, and happiness ; rising 
continually from glory to glory, advancing per- 
petually nearer to the God he worships ; and 
assimilating himself more and more to the per- 
fection he adores. Trace his career onward and 
upward, until it has exceeded the loftiest stretch 
of the strongest and holiest imagination, and 
then remember that there is yet an infinite ca- 
reer of progress beyond him. Consider that 
such is the destination which we are required 
to regard as the end of our being ; — and who 
does not feel, who will not acknowledge, that to 
prostitute such capacities to purposes of earthly 
gain, and to forfeit such hopes for the sake of 
temporal and selfish pleasure, is a most debasing 
perversion of privilege, a most shameful degra- 
dation of power, an utterly inexcusable abuse of 
life. 

I ask, then, with confidence, do not they to 
whom this description applies, — do not they 
labor ? are they not heavy laden ? labor they 
not without any hope of an adequate recom- 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



197 



pense, and suffer themselves to be heavy laden 
not only with the weight of care and anxiety, 
but also with the heavier burden of conscious 
degradation, — that sense of debasement which 
no man can escape who is false to the great 
moral capacities and spiritual trusts committed 
to him ? 

It is to such that Christ presents his offer of 
rest. He calls to them, Come unto me, ye who 
are toiling day and night for the meat that per- 
isheth, regardless of that which endureth unto 
eternal life, come unto me, and learn how to 
make your labor really profitable, and your toil 
satisfactory. Let all your business be devised 
and executed, and its profits expended, under the 
strict guidance of my religion, and the blessing 
of Heaven will rest upon your labors, and peace 
and happiness be the unfaiHng result. 

2. We are in this world exposed to the evil 
influences and the ruinous effects of sin. Its 
temptations meet us in every path of life, but 
they are intended not to seduce and corrupt, but 
to afford occasions to strengthen our virtue, and 
to confirm the power of religious principle. God 
has constituted us with sentiments and propensi- 
ties which are ever craving gratification, but the 
excessive indulgence of which is in itself sin, 
and in its effects misery. He has also implant- 



198 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



ed within ns superior faculties, which, in their 
legitimate exercise, are intended to restrain and 
guide the inferior or animal propensities. The 
proper regulation and employment of these nat- 
ural powers constitutes the chief discipline of 
the present life. And the great end of the 
Christian religion, as it regards this life, is to in- 
duce our obedience to these superior sentiments 
of our nature, — the moral and intellectual fac- 
ulties. Now in order that this end, proposed 
both by nature and revelation, may be accom- 
plished, it is necessary that the external world 
should be constituted in relation to it. And this 
is found to be the fact. Our outward condition, 
as a state of trial and discipline, harmonizes per- 
fectly with our intellectual constitution. Oppor- 
tunities are constantly presented by which all 
the higher sentiments of our nature may be 
worthily employed, and the happiness thence 
resulting, be secured. But the evil is, that men 
will not open their eyes to this constitution of 
things. They will not see the relations between 
the world without and the world within, and 
learn by their adaptedness to each other, that 
the great ultimate purpose of this arrangement 
is the spiritual improvement of man. They pre- 
fer the advancement of their temporal interests, 
and the gratification of the lower propensities, 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



J.99 



and persist in this pursuit, thousjh in known defi- 
ance of the laws of God written in their own 
hearts, and in God's revealed word. Thus it is 
that the heavy burden, the galling yoke, of sin 
is self-imposed, and in some extreme cases both 
the capacity and the desire of relief seem to be 
lost. Of all the burdens to which human na- 
ture is exposed, this is immeasurably the heavi- 
est, of all evils the most alarming ; since it is 
not, like other evils, confined to this life. Sin 
is an aff'ection of the moral nature ; it stamps its 
deformed and unholy image on the immortal 
spirit, and will go with that spirit, as its accuser 
and tormentor, to the bar of judgment, and to 
the eternal state. According to the Scriptures, 
there is nothing so evil, so deformed, so ruinous, 
as sin. All pain, poverty, contempt, affliction, 
ill-success, are light, and not to be named with 
it. To do wrong is more pernicious than to 
incur all the calamities which nature or human 
malice can heap upon us." According to the 
Scriptures, we are not to fear those who would 
kill the body, and after that have no more that 
they can do. Such enemies are impotent com- 
pared with sin, which draws down the displeas- 
ure of God, and brings in its train ineff*able mis- 
ery to the soul. Such, you know, is the whole 
strain of the gospel. Sin, violated duty, the evil 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



of the heart, this is the only evil of which Scrip- 
ture takes account. And it is the design of its 
representations to lead us to connnect with sin 
the ideas of evil, wretchedness, and debasement, 
more strongly than with any thing else. We are 
to consider, moreover, that this deep conviction 
of the evil of sin is not merely a command of 
Christianity. It is not an arbitrary, positive pre- 
cept, which rests solely on the word of the 
lawgiver ; but it is alike the dictate of natural 
and revealed religion, an injunction of conscience 
and reason, founded in our own nature, and con- 
firmed by constant experience. To regard sin 
as the greatest of evils is God's command, pro- 
claimed from within and without, from heaven 
and earth ; and he who does not hear and obey 
this command has yet to learn the truth on 
which his whole happiness rests. Now it is 
from this evil that Christ came to redeem us. 
It is to purify us from this stain, to free us from 
this yoke, that the goodness of God has offered 
us the means of deliverance which the gospel 
presents. 

From Christ alone, then, can we obtain the 
proper and sufficient remedy for the misery of 
sin. His invitation is, Come unto me, ye that 
are heavy laden with the weight of guilt, and 
are laboring under its inevitable wretchedness. 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



201 



and I will give you rest. Exercise repentance 
towards God, and that persevering obedience to 
his commands which shall evince the sincerity 
of your penitence, and ye shall receive the re- 
mission of your sins, and secure the peace and 
recompense of heaven. 

3. Although sin is the greatest, it is not the 
only evil of human condition. Uncertainty, 
change, disappointment, bereavement, are char- 
acteristics of our present state ; and it has seem- 
ed good to the all-wise Disposer of events that 
we should be perpetually liable to these calami- 
ties. Unexpected and unforeseen contingencies 
may crush our hopes, and blast the plans we 
have formed for comfort in the world. The 
prosperity we now enjoy may only serve to give 
a sharper point to the distress which coming 
poverty will bring with it. Our health and 
strength may be prostrated by the touch of pain 
and disease ; and over our dearest possessions, 
the possessions of the heart, the treasured loves 
and joys in relatives and friends, Death may at 
any time wave his fatal sceptre, and our hearts 
be left solitary and comfortless in the desolation 
of bereavement, and the anguish of severed af- 
fections. At such seasons, how impressive and 
how soothing is the call of Jesus, Come unto 
me, O ye afflicted ones, weary with the disap- 



202 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



pointments of earth, heavy laden with the bur- 
den of grief, come unto me, and 1 will give you 
rest. Cast your burden on God ; he will sustain 
you. Pour out your sorrows into the bosom of 
paternal love, send up to him the prayer of trust 
and submission, and heavenly messengers of mer- 
cy shall visit your troubled souls with peace, and 
consolation, and strength. 

4. There is another class of evils which I 
would not omit to notice, and which may also 
be removed by application to Christ. They 
arise from the separation of Christians into dif- 
ferent sects and parties, each claiming truth for 
itself, and denouncing others as heretical or false. 
There are, indeed, some transcendent truths 
which all unite in believing. But on many 
points, and those certainly of deep interest, this 
unanimity vanishes. Almost every one of the 
principal sects lays the greatest stress on its 
own peculiarity. From the seven hills of Rome 
we hear it proclaimed, that within her Catholic 
and Apostolic pale there can be no error, and 
without it no salvation. Other churches also, 
though professing to glory in that great reforma- 
tion which was founded on the principle, that it 
is the right and duty of every man to judge of 
religion for himself, with no responsibility but 
to God, — yet, with a lamentable inconsistency, 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



203 



assume the badge of infallibility which they had 
torn from the papal brow, and deny the name of 
Christian to every one who will not measure his 
faith by their standard. 

Amidst this variety and discordance of opin- 
ion, the humble disciple is often perplexed and 
distressed. The question of Pilate, " What is 
truth ? " bursts anxiously from his lips. How 
shall I know when I have found so much of it 
as is necessary for my salvation? On all sides, 
in every communion, I see men of learning, and 
piety, and benevolence. With which of them 
does truth reside, and whom may I follow with- 
out hazard to my spiritual interests ? Turn to 
Jesus. His voice may still be heard above the 
noise of contention, Come unto me, ye that la- 
bor under the confusion, strife, and contradic- 
tions of the sects, come unto me, and I will give 
you rest. He that keepeth my commandments, 
he is my disciple, and he it is that loveth me, 
and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Fa- 
ther, and we will come to him and make our 
abode with him. 

Thus do we see, my brethren, how admirably 
adapted to every circumstance in our condition 
is the religion of Jesus Christ. By neglecting 
it, then, we sin against our own peace. It is 
the only wisdom, the only consistency of char- 



204 



THE REST OF FAITH. 



acter, the only peace and blessedness of man. 
We should not have our distressing doubts and 
fears ; we should not be so subject as we are to 
the distracting influences of passion, nor so in- 
fluenced by the temptations and afiiictions of 
our present life, if we had yielded our hearts 
wholly to the spirit and religion of Jesus. It is 
a religion adapted to us all. To every aflfection, 
to every state of mind, to every period and con- 
dition of life, it would impart the very influence 
we need. How surely would it guide our youth, 
and hov/ would it temper, and soften, and sanc- 
tify all the fervors of youthful feeling ! How 
well would it support our age, making it youth- 
ful again with the fervent hope of immortality ! 
How would it lead us, too, in all the paths of 
earthly care, and business, and labor, turning 
the brief and weary courses of worldly toil into 
ways of pleasantness and paths of peace ! How 
faithfully and how calmly would it conduct us 
to the everlasting abodes ! And how beautifully, 
in fine, does our Lord illustrate its character in 
his gracious invitation, — so gentle, so kind, so 
touching, — " Come unto me, all ye that labor, 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 
Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for 
I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find 
rest unto your souls.'* 



SERMON X, 



HUMAN NATURE. 

THOU HAST MADE HIM A LITTLE LOWER THAN THE ANGELS, 
AND HAST CROWNED HIM WITH GLORY AND HONOR. — PsallTl 

viii. 5. 

These words present human nature in an as- 
pect which commands our attention. They de- 
clare its divine origin, and its exalted capacities. 
They designate man's place in the scale of be- 
ing, and the objects which are set before him. 
But the view they offer, though certainly the 
highest and most valuable, is kept too much out 
of sight. It has been, and continues in a great 
measure to be, the fashion — so to speak — to 
decry human nature ; to bring out in prominent 
exposure its weaknesses, its defects, its imper- 
fections ; to represent man as a mean and miser- 
able creature, groping his way in darkness which 
his feeble light of intellect cannot penetrate, and^ 



206 



HUMAN NATURE. 



seeking his happiness most frequently in that 
which only leads to wretchedness. 

And we may admit that this description is in 
the main true. But while we admit this, it be- 
comes us to inquire, whether this meanness, and 
degradation, and folly, belong to man naturally 
and necessarily, or whether they are not the ef- 
fects of the abuse of capacities, which, rightly 
exercised, would have produced widely different 
results. Is he made by his Creator to be a 
mean, degraded, and foolish being, or does he 
make himself so? Here is a distinction which 
should never be forgotten. If we look upon 
man as he appears, — that is to say, if we look 
only on the surface of society, and note the 
forms of selfishness, of folly, of depravity, there 
manifested, and if we regard these as true indi- 
cations of human nature, then must we admit 
the truth even of those descriptions which rep- 
resent that nature as utterly abject and worth- 
less. And it is from this outward, superficial 
view that such descriptions have resulted, and 
which have led many good and great men to 
sanction the doctrine of the thorough corruption 
and depravity of human nature. But this is man- 
ifestly a most unjust conclusion ; for this view of 
society does not — no, nor yet do the represent- 
^ations of history — reveal the qualities which 



HUMAN NATURE. 



207 



compose man's nature. They show iis how- 
man has used his capacities ; that is to say, they 
show us what human character is, and has been, 
and that, alas ! is obviously and undeniably a 
character of folly, and depravity, and unworthi- 
ness. But then the distinction between human 
character and human nature is a broad and mark- 
ed one, and should, I repeat, never be forgotten. 

If, therefore, we would form a true judgment 
of human nature, we must look into its original 
capacities, its native attributes. We must look 
at man through the powers with which he is 
endowed, and the relations he sustains. In a 
word, we must have especial regard to those dis- 
tinctive properties which make him man. That 
he has some propensities and sentiments in com- 
mon with the inferior animals is surely no rea- 
son why he should be regarded merely as an 
animal. That he abuses his powers to mean 
and unworthy ends does not prove that those 
are the highest ends he is capable of attaining. 
And that he forms a sinful character is no evi- 
dence that his nature is depraved. His charac- 
ter is his own work ; his nature is the work of 
God, and in the image of God made he man. 
As well may we call the glorious sun a feeble 
and inefficient light, because its brightness is 
dimmed to our eyes by intercepting clouds, as 



208 



HUMAN NATURE. 



to call human nature depraved and corrupt be- 
cause its glory is obscured by perversion and 
abuse ! 

It is, then, to the higher characteristics of our 
nature that I would now direct your attention, 
— to those noble and original attributes, which, 
in the language of my text, crown it with glory 
and honor. And it seems to me that there is 
need that these high capacities should be more 
a miliar to our minds than they appear to be, 
and should more frequently be the subjects of 
our consideration. The weaknesses and defects 
which are inherent in us are too palpable to be 
forgotten. They continually show themselves 
by their unhappy influence on all our plans and 
operations. They come unbidden, and unwish- 
ed for, and their effect is too often to discourage 
and deject. But those capacities which are not 
brought into constant or habitual exercise are 
easily overlooked and forgotten. And this is 
the case with the higher powers of our nature. 
They are too generally suff'ered to lie idle and 
dormant, and through their neglect we come 
almost to forget that we have any higher capaci- 
ties than those which belong to the animal na- 
ture. But the truest view of human nature is 
that which recognizes its superior powers and 
prerogatives ; and he who accustoms himself so 



HUMAN NATURE. 



209 



to consider it will judge and act with a noble- 
ness, integrity, and just confidence, which can 
never be felt by him who never looks beyond 
his weaknesses and imperfections. 

What, now, are these high capacities which 
constitute at once the dignity and the value of 
human nature ? 

First in the list stands the crowning attribute 
of man, reason, understanding, which has been 
given him by the inspiration of the Almighty. 
It is this which draws a broad line of demarka- 
tion between him and all other creatures of 
earth. It is this which makes him lord of this 
lower creation ; invests him with a just suprem- 
acy, a rightful dominion. It is this which ena- 
bles him, in a degree, to make the earth and the 
sea obey him, the elements do his bidding, and 
the unvarying laws of nature promote his pur- 
poses. By this he says to the mountain which 
stands in the way of his course, Be thou re- 
moved hence, and cast into yonder valley," or 
Let a way be opened through thy midst for me 
to pass," and he is obeyed ! By this he stretches 
out his arm over the mighty river, and its proud 
course is stayed, and he piles up its flowing 
waters in a heap, that he may use them at his 
pleasure ! By this he commands fire and water 
to be the steeds of his chariot, and they propel 
14 



210 



HUMAN NATURE. 



him over sea and land with the swiftness of the 
wind. 

Mind, intellect, thought, is the true sovereign 
of the world. What an almost omnipotent and 
omnipresent power does it exert, though breath- 
ing only from the silent page. It crosses oceans, 
and spreads through nations ; and at one and the 
same moment, the conceptions of a single mind 
are electrifying and kindling multitudes separat- 
ed from each other by seas and continents. 
Here is a power before which that of kings and 
potentates dwindles into insignificance. Yet is 
this power an inherent attribute of human na- 
ture. The greatest and most striking manifes- 
tations of mind are but examples of our com- 
mon nature, showing what belongs to all minds, 
though unfolded as yet only in a few. They 
are a revelation of the power which is treasured 
up in every human being. They are not prodi- 
gies, not miracles, but natural developments of 
the human mind. 

But the highest dignity and value of the ra- 
tional faculty is yet to be named. It is this 
which elevates man above earth and earthly re- 
lations, and gives him a place in the great family 
of spirits, of which God is the head and father. 
Man belongs not only to the human race, but he 
also belongs, by natural affinity, to the lineage 



HUMAN NATURE. 



211 



of angels and archangels. In the intellectual 
world there are no distinct classes of beings. 
All are of one origin, one nature, kindled from 
one divine flame, and are all tending to one cen- 
tre, one happiness. ^ 

Such are the powers and relations which per- 
tain to man as an intellectual being, — and thus 
does the attribute of reason crown him with glo- 
ry and honor. 

Another attribute of human nature which con- 
fers value and dignity is freedom, moral free- 
dom. While the sun, the moon, the stars, and 
all the hosts of heaven pursue their appointed 
courses by mechanical laws unknown to them- 
selves ; while the animals blindly obey their ir- 
resistible instincts, and are entirely dependent 
on impressions from without, man has power to 
control and to modify these laws in regard to his 
own actions, and to withstand, or wholly to sur- 
mount, the instincts of his nature. No stern ne- 
cessity compels him to trust the information of 
his senses, or to follow his feelings as they rise. 
He is free to choose, and to do, that which ap- 
pears to be most favorable to his interests, and 
to reject and to avoid what may defeat them. 
His perceptions, indeed, may often deceive him, 
and sometimes lead him astray. But then he is 
free to change his course, or to retrace his steps. 



212 



HUMAN NATURE. 



He thus guides and governs himself by the light 
of his reason, according to the circumstances of 
external things. He does nothing but what he 
willsj and nothing can compel him to will any 
thing but what he at that time holds to be best. 

But is it said that the value of this power is 
more than questionable, since man by choosing 
wrongly brings upon himself sin and its attend- 
ing evils ? I ask, in reply, is the power any the 
less valuable in itself because it is perverted and 
abused ? Does not the power to do wrong im- 
ply the power to do right ? — the very power 
which constitutes the glory of God. And how 
is it possible that the one could exist without 
the other ? There could be no sin without lib- 
erty of action, without moral freedom. Were 
man a machine, or were he a mere creature of 
sensation and impulse, like the brute, he could 
do no wrong. No, nor could he do right, any 
more than the machine or the brute. 

Take from him, then, this moral freedom, and 
his high powers are but useless gifts. You pre- 
vent him, indeed, from the commission of sin, 
but you also prevent his attaining, through his 
victory over temptations, his appointed glory 
and honor. 

Look next at man as a progressive being, en- 
dowed with the capacity of continual growtli 



HUMAN NATURE. 



213 



and improvement, and here is another ground 
of the dignity and value of human nature. To 
all objects of the material world, limits have 
been fixed which they may not pass. The glo- 
rious orbs of light which circle in their beauty 
and brightness in the immensity above us, draw- 
ing to themselves our rapt gaze of wonder, and 
exciting a feeling of mingled reverence and awe, 
are yet at this moment the same as when in the 
beginning they were sent forth in their orbits 
by their Creator's hand. The ages which have 
passed since their lights were hung in the firma- 
ment have witnessed in them no progress, no 
improvement. The plants and animals around 
us go forward by a prescribed course to their 
maturity, and there they necessarily stop. How 
different with man ! Time, which brings decay 
and dissolution to all things else, serves only to 
give greater energy to his powers, to enlarge his 
capacities, and to open a wider and higher sphere 
for their action. Look back to the infancy of 
our race, and compare it with its present state. 
To what are we to attribute the great and glori- 
ous, I had almost said miraculous, change ? It is 
to the progressive principle in human nature ; the 
principle of growth and improvement. While 
the material universe and all its dependencies 
have been stationary in the limits assigned to 



214 



HUMAN NATURE. 



them, man, restrained by no limits, has been de- 
veloping the powers of his nature, leaving dark- 
ness and ignorance behind him, and pressing 
onwards and upwards to the regions of light and 
knowledge. But great as may be the difference 
in this regard between the present and the first 
stage of human existence, it is but the merest 
shadow of the difference between what man 
now is, and what he may, and as I believe with 
the firmest faith he will, become. The pro- 
gress already attained is an indication of future 
growth ; but the surest indication of this is in his 
nature itself Here are powers to the expansion 
of which who shall set bounds, and of the at- 
tainments of which who is able to conceive ? 
Think you that the untutored Indian, who gazes 
blindly at the starry heavens and thinks only of 
their empty brightness, can conceive of a power 
which reads in those stars, as in a book, the 
great laws of the universe, and knows their 
forms, and motions, and efiects, as minutely and 
as correctly as he knows the forms and habits of 
the animals which he hunts? No more can we, 
even in this boasted age of knowledge and re- 
finement, conceive of the heights of intellectual 
and moral power to which the human mind in 
its future progress will attain even on earth. 
But when we add to this the fact of man's im- 



HUMAN NATURE. 215 

mortality, when we consider that death and the 
grave, instead of putting a period to his progress, 
do but open to him a higher, even an infinite 
sphere of action, what mind can reach the re- 
sults of his existence ? They are unfathomable 
by our deepest thought ; they are present only 
to the mind of God, who alone can see the end 
from the beginning. As man shall exist for 
ever, as he can never approach the termination 
of his being, neither can he approach the termi- 
nation of his progress. Other things may stop 
and become stationary, for they are to come to 
an end. But not man, for he is to know no end. 
Man, the son of the Most High, his spirit a ray 
from the fountain of unquenchable and inex- 
haustible light, — what degree of knowledge, 
what measure of power, what condition of feli- 
city, shall render him incapable of acquiring still 
higher knowledge, of obtaining still greater pow- 
ers, of enjoying still purer bliss ? No ; everlast- 
ing advancement and progress, everlasting im- 
provement in all that is great, and beautiful, and 
good, everlasting approximation to the highest, 
but still unattainable, perfection, — this is the vo- 
cation, this the appointed destiny, of man ; and in 
this does his nature shine out in its highest and 
purest glory. 

And now, my brethren, let us pause here and 



216 



HUMAN NATURE. 



Consider what should be the practical results of 
such views of our nature as have been present- 
ed. They should obviously tend to elevate our 
conceptions of its dignity and value. We ought 
to look upon our nature with feelings of rever- 
ence and veneration. We should venerate it 
not only as the divine workmanship, but more 
especially as a manifestation of those infinite at- 
tributes which, as they exist in their perfection 
in our Creator, demand our holiest reverence, and 
our supreme adoration. This is a duty, which, 
as it resuhs from a proper estimate of our natu- 
ral powers, is confirmed and enforced by the 
most solemn considerations of Christianity, a 
religion which presents man in the most august 
and impressive aspect in which he can be viewed. 
It has been wisely, eloquently, said, that this 
whole religion is a testimony to the worth 
of man in the sight of God, to the importance 
of human nature, to the infinite purposes for 
which we were framed. God is there set forth 
as sending to the succour of his human family 
his beloved Son, the bright image and repre- 
sentative of his own perfections; and sending 
him, not simply to roll away a burden of pain 
and punishment, — for this, however magnified 
in systems of theology, is not his highest work, 
— but to create man after that divine image 



HUMAN NATURE. 



217 



which he himself bears, to purify the soul from 
every stain, to communicate to it new power 
over evil, and to open before it immortality as 
its aim and destination, — immortality, by which 
we are to understand, not merely a perpetual, 
but an ever-improving being. Such are the 
views of Christianity. And these blessings it 
olfers not to a few, not to the educated, not to 
the eminent, but to all human beings, to the 
poorest and the most fallen, and we know that, 
through the power of its promises, it has, in not 
a few instances, raised the most fallen to true 
greatness, and given them in their present virtue 
and peace an earnest of the heaven which it 
unfolds. Men viewed in the light of this reli- 
gion are beings cared for by God, to whom he 
has given his Son, on whom he pours forth his 
spirit, and whom he has created for the highest 
good in the universe, for participation in his own 
perfections. Such is the bright light which the 
gospel sheds on the nature and the prospects of 
man, and thus is reverence for that nature shown 
to be a religious duty. 

But while the intrinsic value of human na- 
ture is justly entitled to this high regard, yet 
this is no cause of pride, arrogance, or self- 
esteem. What our nature is, it is by the gift of 
God. It is he who made us, and not we our- 



218 



HUMAN NATURE. 



selves, and surely we shall not be disposed to 
cherish a vain-glorious spirit on account of our 
natural capacities, if we have any proper sense 
of the magnitude of the trusts thus committed 
to us, the tremendous responsibilities thence re- 
sulting, and the peremptory obligation resting 
upon us to a corresponding fidelity. These are 
the thoughts which, when we reflect on the 
high powers of our nature, should be present to 
our minds, and mingle with our meditations, re- 
pressing every tendency to self-elation, and pro- 
ducing a spirit of the deepest humility. To 
whomsoever much is given, of him will much 
be required. What a duty is then required of 
us ! In this view of our powers and consequent 
responsibilities, we might almost exclaim, Would 
to God that we had never been born ! But we 
are born, — we are living ; — and it is He whose 
will is the supreme law of the universe who 
has given us our being, and clothed it with its 
high powers, and its fearful responsibilities. The 
obligation to fidelity is laid upon us by his same 
irresistible will, and it must be borne. There 
is no possibility of escape or evasion. Where 
now is pride ? Where is boasting ? O, the man 
who can indulge a selfish pride in the capacities 
of his nature, so linked in as they are with re- 
sponsibilities and duties, only shows thereby his 



i 



HUMAN NATURE. 



219 



own ignorance of the true dignity and value of 
that of which he boasts ! 

And then, too, there is that dark and sad view, 
which should for ever banish pride from the hu- 
man heart, the view of man's sinfulness. Yes ; 
glorious and gifted as man is by nature, he is a 
sinner ; and the saddest thought is, that he uses 
his high and noble gifts as the instruments of 
sin. Reason, which stamps man with the image 
of God, which unites him to the blessed family 
of spirits, which makes him the fellow and 
brother of angels, and would guide him to a joy- 
ful participation in their pure happiness ; capaci- 
ties of boundless growth and expansion in all 
that is great, and lovely, and good ; a moral 
freedom, enabling him to choose the good and 
avoid the evil ; a divine conscience, which would 
be his unerring guide to perfect peace and joy ; 
— these are the holy attributes which are taken 
off from their natural pursuits, turned out of their 
appointed course, degraded to serve when they 
should reign, and to obey what they should gov- 
ern ; made to toil for sense and appetite, to labor 
in schemes of ambition, of wealth, and pleasure, 
as if these were the ultimate objects of human 
desire and aim ; — and it is, too, in these unwor- 
thy struggles for earthly good that the inferior 
propensities of our nature find their nourishment, 



220 



HUMAN NATURE. 



and desires are fomented into passions, and evil 
feelings rage in the heart, and show themselves 
by sinful deeds. Pride, and envy, and anger, 
and selfishness, and slander, and falsehood, and 
the whole progeny of sinful affections, — do they 
not all originate in this strife for the passing 
vanities of life, and are they not thence fed and 
strengthened till they become at last so mighty 
that the man, the divine nature, is crushed to 
the earth and trampled on, and some unholy pas- 
sion usurps its place, and uses its energies in the 
advancement of its own base purposes ? The 
sensualist, the miser, the drunkard, — what are 
they but examples of the pitiable degradation to 
which sinful passions can subject all that is high 
and godlike in man ? And of a like violation 
of the purposes of our being are we all guilty in 
every instance in which we allow sin to gain 
dominion over us. 

But why, let me now ask in conclusion, why 
do we speak of sin as degradation, as meanness, 
and unworthiness ? If human nature were de- 
praved and corrupt, sin would be the natural 
and expected result. It would be no more de- 
grading for a corrupt nature to sin, than for a fe- 
rocious nature, like that of the beasts of prey, to 
exhibit its ferocity. But we do not so arraign the 
animal creation, we do not speak of their actions 



HUMAN NATURE. 



221 



as inconsistent, mean, or unworthy. It is, then, 
because of the high intellectual and moral capa- 
cities which make a part of human nature, that 
it is degradation in man to sin. Sin, so far from 
being natural to man, is a voluntary abuse of 
powers and prerogatives, which give him do- 
- minion over the desires whose excess alone is 
sin, and whose excess he has power to restrain. 
He sins wilfully, and with the consciousness in 
his mind at the very time that he is doing vio- 
lence to his nature, and to the great purposes of 
his being. He thus brings himself down from 
his high and natural elevation, and thence his 
degradation, his meanness, his unworthiness. 
Thus is sin itself a testimony to the high en- 
dowments of our nature. And it is only by a 
due sense, a deep and active conviction, of the 
greatness and value of these high endowments, 
that we can be effectually guarded against this 
destructive power of sin. He who knows his 
nature best can most worthily employ its capa- 
cities in averting injurious influences, and effect- 
ing its legitimate purposes. And he who has 
good cause to respect and venerate his nature 
will not employ it in unworthy uses. Let us, 
then, seek to understand the true dignity and 
value of our nature, and as we acquire it, let 
it be to us an animating principle of action, 



222 



HUMAN NATURE. 



leading us to think justly, and to act greatly ; 
to be ever progressing in knowledge and virtue ; 
to live as those who are to li-ve for ever, — to 
live, in fine, as becomes those whom God has 
made but a little lower than the angels, and 
crowned with glory and honor. 



SERMON XL 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 

NOW IF ANY MAN HAVK NOT THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST, HE IS NONE 

OF HIS. — Romans viii. 9. 

We have already seen, my brethren, that the 
rehgious spirit inculcated by our Lord in his 
precepts, and exemplified in his life, is purely a 
concern of our inner man. It is a state of mind 
which unites our hearts to God in love, and to 
our fellow-men in benevolence, and leads to a 
refined and exalted happiness, which nothing 
earthly can injure, which death cannot destroy, 
nor the grave extinguish. Such was the state 
of mind which our Lord possessed. Of this, 
we shall be the more convinced the more we 
study his life,, and the deeper insight we get into 
his character. Subjected as he was in the short 
season of his ministry to almost all the condi- 
tions of earthly trial, we perceive this spirit 



224 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 



breathing in his words, and shining in his actions. 
So that, under whatever circumstances we view 
him, the same lesson is taught by his example. 
He is at all times and everywhere the same. 
The hosannas of the multitude, accompanying 
him in triumph to the holy city, did not weak- 
en his sense of dependence on God ; the priva- 
tions and sufferings which he was called to 
endure cast no shade over the purity and 
strength of his trust in his Father's love ; the 
horrors of the most cruel death, constantly pres- 
ent, and vividly pictured as they were to his 
prophetic eye, did not draw from him a repining 
word ; and when at last the fatal hour arrived 
in which these long-anticipated agonies were to 
be realized, though nature shrunk back instinc- 
tively from the dreaded torture, he conquered 
this feeling by a powerful exercise of that faith 
in God which had hitherto sustained him, and 
resigned himself in meek submission to his Fa- 
ther's will. In these, as in all the other circum- 
stances of his life, the spirit of our Lord was 
manifested, — that spirit which we are required 
to possess, which if we have not we are none of 
his. On this every thing depends. It is not 
enough that we admire the character of our 
Lord ; we must also imitate it. We should not 
only reverence his spirit, but we must also im- 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 



225 



bibe it, and make it our own. Any observance 
which is not actuated by this spirit is wholly 
worthless. No 'forms of worship, or expressions 
of piety towards God, no acts of benevolence to 
man, no conformity of outward conduct to the 
requisitions of Christianity, can be in any case 
accepted by the Searcher of hearts as a substi- 
tute for purity of heart and purpose, which is 
designated in my text as the spirit of Christ. 

Let us, then, turn our attention to some of the 
more direct reasons which urge upon us the cul- 
tivation of this spirit. It is but a reasonable re- 
quirement that disciples should be as their mas- 
ter, that they should imitate his virtues, and form 
themselves into a resemblance of him. The 
simple fact, then, that we call ourselves disciples 
of Christ, that we acknowledge him as our Lord 
and Master, is a powerful reason for the duty 
under consideration. We cannot be faithful to 
the relations in which we stand to him, unless 
we make his example the object of our study 
and imitation. We shall mosf surely be con- 
vinced of this when we consider that we have 
the same reasons for imitating, as he had for ex- 
hibiting, this example ; or, in other words, we 
have the same cause to lead a holy and heav- 
enly-minded life that he had. Do we not stand 
in the same relations to the Supreme and Infi- 
15 



226 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 



nite One in which the man Christ Jesus stood ? 
Have we not the very same nature as he had ? 
Ought not the glory of God to be the ultimate 
end of our life, as it was his, and the divine will 
the only and unalterable rule of our conduct, as 
it was his ? Are we not just as much strangers 
and sojourners here on earth as our Master was ? 
What greater reasons have we to love the world 
and the things of it than he had ? Are riches, 
honors, and sensual pleasures more our peculiar 
and highest good than they were his ? Can they 
contribute more to our true and everlasting hap- 
piness than they could to his ? Are they less 
dangerous to us than they were to him ? Is it 
an easier matter for us to conquer our sins, to 
perfect holiness, and to work out our salva- 
tion, than it was for him to do that great work 
which the Father had given him to do ? Have 
we less need of devotion, of zeal and applica- 
tion, of self-denial and vigilance, in our work, 
than he had for his ? Can the humility, the pa- 
tience, and the submission which so adorned and" 
elevated his character be unnecessary or useless 
to us ? Is it less needful to us than to him to 
be made perfect through trials and suffering ? 
Are we too great to desire to render ourselves 
acceptable to the Most High, and to be happy in 
the same way in which Christ obtained the ap- 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 



227 



probation of his Father, and entered into his glo- 
ry ? These, and similar considerations, ought 
to be sufficient to convince us, my brethren, that 
there is a peculiar propriety in that imitation of 
the example of our Lord which is required of 
his disciples, — that we are under the strongest 
6bligations to make the life and spirit of Christ 
the rule and guide of our own. But the impor- 
tance of the subject requires that we look at it 
more in detail. Let us see, then, if, in the vari- 
ous circumstances of human condition, we do 
not find the need of the spirit of Christ to di- 
rect and control us, if indeed it be not absolute- 
ly necessary to enable us to discharge aright the 
duties which devolve upon us. All the cir- 
cumstances of human condition may be com- 
prised under the three great divisions of prosper- 
ity, adversity, and death. A consideration of 
the need of the spirit of Christ in each of these 
conditions will occupy the remainder of this 
discourse. 

1. Take, first, the condition of prosperity. 
This state brings with it harder trials, and more 
severe duties, than any other state of human 
life. When all things go smoothly with us, 
and success is crowning our efforts, the mind is 
most apt to be led away from God, and we at- 
tribute to our own efforts that prosperity which 



228 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 



is solely the result of his blessing. Our minds 
become fastened to the things of earth, onr af- 
fections never stray beyond sensual objects. The 
world has the keeping of our treasure, and in the 
same custody our hearts are held. What want 
we of religion when all our desires are gratified, 
and pleasure waits at our call ? Our houses are 
safe from fear, we spend our days in mirth, and 
we say unto God, Depart from us, for we desire 
not the knowledge of thy ways. What is the 
Almighty that we should serve him, and what 
profit should we have if we pray unto him ? 
Such is the state of unrighteous prosperity, — 
such is the state to which worldly success too 
often leads unthinking man. Nay, such is the 
state to which it inevitably leads, unless con- 
trolled and sanctified by the spirit of Christ. 
But how different the effect, when this spirit 
is present and operative. Then all our blessings 
are traced up to their bountiful Giver, — then a 
pure gratitude pervades our bosom, which sends 
up the offering of thanksgiving in the prayer of 
faith, — then are we not high-minded, nor do we 
trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, 
who giveth us richly all things to enjoy. Then, 
too, is the spirit of Christ within us proved by 
its fruits, — by acts of love and benficence to our 
fellow-men, — by our efforts to do good, to be 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 



229 



rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing 
to communicate, laying up in store for ourselves 
a good foundation against the time to come, that 
we may lay hold on eternal life. It is only 
when such are its elTects, that prosperity can 
truly be called a blessing. How needful, then, 
is the spirit of Christ, lest that which all seek 
after as the greatest earthly good should be 
turned into a curse upon our souls, — lest those 
mercies which should remind us of the favor of 
God and our dependence on him should be as- 
cribed to our own sagacity and efforts, and lead 
us to idolize the gifts, instead of worshipping 
the Giver. To this strange idolatry prosperity 
continually exposes us. Its trials, as I said, are 
the most severe which befall us on earth. When 
its good things are profusely lavished upon us, 
how strong is the temptation to excessive indul- 
gence, — how readily does the heart, unguarded 
by religious influence, cleave to its earthly com- 
forts, and from them draw its happiness. Did 
you, my brethren, ever know of an instance in 
which a person was turned from sin to holiness, 
from the world to God, by having his earthly 
blessings increased upon him ? No, our obser- 
vation and experience testify that the almost 
universal effect of prosperity is to harden the 
heart, to render it more callous to those feelings 



230 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 



of love and gratitude to the supreme Giver 
which his mercies are designed to awaken. It 
is the opposite of prosperity, — adversity and 
affliction, — which gives om' thoughts a heaven- 
ward direction. It is when our comforts are 
taken from us, when clouds settle down on our 
pathway, when death removes the objects of our 
love, that we most feel our dependence on God, 
and feel the need of his support. We need the 
frowns of Providence, as they are called, to 
quicken in our hearts that religious feeling which 
its smiles have sought in vain to awaken. But, 
my brethren, it may be that with some of you 
the trials of prosperity are the only trials to 
which God will call you. It may be that he 
will not take from you the treasures of earth on 
which your hearts are fixed, that he will not 
tear from your embrace those friends in whom 
your happiness is bound up. It may be his will 
that you shall be removed, so that the affliction 
of your death may be the means of religious 
improvement to others. O, then, seek now for 
the spirit of Christ, that your blessings may be 
sanctified by gratitude to their Giver! Now, 
while health and competence are yours, and the 
days of adversity and distress appear distant, 
improve your opportunities, and employ your 
mercies in cultivating and strengthening within 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 



231 



you that spirit of Christ, without which you are 
not his, nor can be his for ever. 

2. But, in the second place, although afflic- 
tions are generally instrumental in leading our 
minds to God, and impress us with the convic- 
tion of our dependence, and turn our thoughts 
to religious duty, they do not always have this 
effect ; and in a great majority of cases where 
they are followed by this result, it is only partial 
and transitory. We need, therefore, the spirit 
of Christ to teach us how to bear adversity 
aright. In this life we know nothing is certain, 
nothing permanent. It has pleased God to at- 
tach to all earthly things insecurity, change, and 
decay. Yet so unmindful are most of us of 
this arrangement of Providence, that we look 
upon our blessings as fixed possessions, and suf- 
fer our hearts to grow to them in fond, but fatal, 
security. When, therefore, it seems good to the 
all-wise Disposer of events to remove them from 
us, to change the joy of possession into the lam- 
entation of bereavement, the unsanctified heart 
is prone to feel as if robbed of its rights, and to 
offend Heaven by complaints and repining. Yet 
there can be no doubt that afflictions of every 
kind are messengers of mercy, designed to wean 
us from our attachments to earth, and to remind 
us of our relations to the Being on whom we 



232 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 



and all our blessings alike depend. They are 
among the most powerful means of quickening 
and strengthening the divine life within us. 
And they who resist or neglect them resist the 
loudest calls which God makes to his children, 
and the most earnest strivings of his spirit. And 
yet, my brethren, how frequently does God thus 
speak to us in the death of our friends or our 
children, and, while we acknowledge his power, 
we are not improved by the dispensation. The 
wound which bereavement opened time grad- 
ually heals, the hand of the Almighty is forgot- 
ten, and the heart is seared through our abuse of 
a means by which God designed it should be 
softened. Can we, then, be taught more im- 
pressively the need of the spirit of Christ to en- 
able us rightly to improve afflictions ? He was 
made perfect through sufferings; — shall the same 
means only serve to increase our guilt ? But 
without his spirit, this will inevitably be their 
effect. We shall not bow submissively to the 
stroke, we shall not acknowledge the hand of 
mercy in our sorrows, nor seek that consolation 
which alone is adequate to our need. 

We have thus seen, my brethren, that in both 
the conditions of prosperity and adversity the 
spirit of Christ is indispensable to us. There is 
another condition in which this spirit is certain- 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 



233 



ly no less essential, — a condition to which all 
are momentarily exposed, and from which there 
is no possibihty of escape. I mean the closing 
scene of our earthly probation. If this spirit is 
so needful for our direction in life, how much 
more for our support in death. Then the com- 
forts which have cheered, and the pleasures which 
have amused, us in our passage through time 
will leave us. Even the sympathy and love of 
our dearest friends, who have clung to us most 
closely through life, cannot aid us there. That 
is a path which we must tread alone. There all 
earthly supports must fail ; and on what, then, 
can we rest, if the spirit which sustained Jesus, 
and gave him the victory over the world and the 
pains of his cruel death, is not present to sustain 
our souls in this last and fearful extremity ? 
Yet if we would then experience this, the only 
sufficient support, we must use the means of se- 
curing it while health gives vigor to our frame, 
and the moral and intellectual capacities are ac- 
tive, and the evil day appears far in the distance. 
It is utterly vain for us to cherish the hope of 
dying the death of the Christian, if we do not 
live the Christian life. This is the only natural 
preparation for a happy death. No artificial ex- 
citement produced by the near approach of the 
dreaded event can be substituted for that obe- 



234 



SPIRIT OF CHRIST. 



dience to the divine will, on which alone the 
promise of God's forgiveness and acceptance de- 
denps, and from which alone immortal happiness 
can result. Look through all the instructions of 
our Lord, look at the example which he exhib- 
ited, look at the end proposed by the religion he 
taught, and you will find their requisitions the 
very same ; it is a conformity of our will to 
God's will ; it is having a fixed regard to the 
great purposes of our being ; it is a heart per- 
vaded by pure love and ardent gratitude, and 
a life of steadfast obedience to the calls of duty. 
Such is the preparation which makes a death-bed 
like the couch of repose to the weary laborer, 
who, after a day of honest toil, gives himself to 
sleep without an anxious thought. Such is the 
preparation that brings to the dying Christian 
throngs of happy recollections, which, like an 
angel guard, keep away from his soul all feelings 
of fear and doubt ; and such alone is the prep- 
aration, which, as earth is fading from the sight, 
and the soul is loosened for its entrance into 
eternity, will whisper to the departing spirit, — 
" Thou art ready to be offered, thou hast fought 
a good fight, thou hast kept the faith. Hence- 
forth there is laid up for thee a crown of right- 
eousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, 
will give thee at that day." 



SERMON XII. 



NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 

YE HAVE A CUSTOM, THAT I SHOULD RELEASE UNTO YOU ONE 
AT THE PASSOVER; WILL YE THEREFORE THAT I RELEASE 
UNTO YOU THE KING OF THE JEWS ? THEN CRIED THEY ALL 
AGAIN, SAYING, NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. NOW BARAB- 
BAS WAS A ROBBER. — John xviu. 39, 40. 

The event to which these words relate is, 
at first view, one of the most surprising of the 
occurrences which took place during the last 
scenes of our Saviour's life. That he, the pure 
and undefiled, should be rejected, and a convicted 
criminal be allowed in his stead to go unpunish- 
ed ; — that he who had devoted his life to doing 
good should be condemned to a malefactor's 
death, and the robber and murderer recommend- 
ed to mercy, is a fact so strange, that it cannot 
fail to attract wonder and surprise. And what 
greatly confirms these feelings is, that it was 
done by the multitude, — the multitude who 



236 NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 

had thronged his steps ; whose hunger he had 
miraculously fed ; whose sick he had healed by 
a word ; who had witnessed the effects of his 
power on the lame, the deaf, the blind, the 
dumb ; who had listened to the divine wisdom 
of his teaching, and seen the purity of his ex- 
ample ; and who, under the natural influence of 
all that they had seen and heard of him, had but 
lately followed him into the city with shouts of 
Hosanna ! and with demonstrations of sincere 
respect and honest gratitude. And this same 
multitude is now crying, "Not this man, but 
Barabbas ! Crucify him ! crucify him ! " 

But when we examine the circumstances of the 
case, we may cease, in some measure at least, to 
wonder. It was done by the multitude, and the 
multitude always acts by impulse and caprice. 
The inciting spirit, whatever it be, is followed 
without inquiry, and without regard to conse- 
quences. In this case the multitude had been 
purposely misled. The priests and rulers of the 
people, whom they had been accustomed to re- 
gard with profound reverence, and to obey with 
unquestioned submission, had exerted their in- 
fluence against the claims of Jesus. They had 
denounced his authority, ridiculed his humble 
birth, and fixed the expectations of the people 
on a temporal and triumphant Messiah, until 



NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 237 

they had turned the popular mind directly against 
him in whose favor it had been so lately and 
so clearly expressed. Directed by such leaders, 
whose power was so great and so long establish- 
ed, we may readily see how easily the multitude 
would be led to clamor for innocent blood, and 
desire that a murderer might be granted to them 
rather than he who could not gratify their mis- 
taken prejudices. Still, it was the multitude, 
acting under strong excitement and rash im- 
pulse, and stimulating each other, as the multi- 
tude always does, to extreme measures. ''We 
are not to suppose that the voice of the nation 
pronounced the dreadful choice recorded in the 
text. A whole people can never have its good 
sentiments so at once perverted. There was 
passionate sorrow in the streets of Jerusalem, 
when he who would have gathered her children 
together as a hen gathereth her chickens under 
her wings was held in the hands of the tor- 
mentors, while Barabbas, the robber, passed out 
free. Even the crowds that came forth to see 
the sad spectacle of his condemnation smote 
their breasts as they returned ; and how many 
of the wise and humble-hearted who sat thought- 
fully at home were remembering the instruc- 
tions of the great Prophet who spoke like no 
other, the wonder-working Benefactor who con- 



238 NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 

ferred blessings like no other, the Holy One of 
God, whose life had been like that of no other ! " 

It was their prejudice and passion, fomented by- 
wicked men into a popular tumult, which were the 
cause of the act we are considering. And hav- 
ing traced it to this cause, why should we con- 
tinue to wonder ? The cause is fully sufficient 
for the effect. It has produced similar effects 
from that day to this, nay, and is now producing 
effects only less strange because they are so 
common. The passions and prejudices of an 
excited Jewish multitude rejected Jesus because 
they knew him not. He would defeat their ex- 
pectations, he would frustrate their long cher- 
ished hopes, he would disappoint their fondest 
and most valued anticipations, and therefore they 
would not acknowledge him as the Christ. If 
we are disposed to be surprised at this, let us 
pass over the intervening space between their 
time and ours, and ask how is it with us ? 
How is it with the multitude in this Christian 
age, and this Christian country? Is Christ re- 
ceived now, or is he rejected ? Who is preferred, 
Barabbas, the robber, or Jesus, the Saviour ? 
There can be but one answer. Jesus is not re- 
ceived, where alone he asks reception, into the 
hearts of men. He is rejected now as much as 
then, not, however, by popular tumult, not by a 



NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 239 



sudden outbreak of passion, but, what is far 
worse, by the general consent. It seems to 
have come to be so much a matter of course 
that Christ should be generally rejected, that it 
creates no surprise, but men are contented that 
it should be so, — and the robber is still preferred. 
The world, which robs man of his allegiance to 
his Maker, which robs him of his heavenly in- 
heritance, which robs him of the only peace 
that can soothe and comfort his soul, which robs 
him of the only support on which he can secure- 
ly lean, which robs him of the, only light in the 
darkness of the grave, the only hope in death, 
the only qualification for the life of eternity, — 
this is the robber that even now, in this Chris- 
tian age and land, is generally chosen and pre- 
ferred. Alas that it should be so ! Sad indeed 
is it, that an act which should excite, and does 
excite, the strong horror of any one who reads 
the record of it with any degree of right feeling, 
should be a type, a prefiguration, of what should 
constantly take place in after ages, — that it 
should be an emblem of the choice which should 
continue to be made. Yet so it is. And the 
general cry which as even now heard in the 
Christian world, — not, indeed, by an audible 
voice, but by the less equivocal expression of the 
conduct and the life, — is, ''Not this man, but 
Barabbas." 



240 NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 

But let us not confine our view in this respect 
to vague generalities. Let lis not be content 
with lamenting the wickedness and folly of 
the world. But let us come nearer home, and 
see how far we ourselves are implicated in this 
guilt. And to bring the point directly before us, 
let me ask, Do we prefer Christ, or Barabbas ? 
And the question is to be answered, not by our 
wishes, our belief, or our feelings, but simply by 
our habits of thought and of life, — by the princi- 
ples which habitually govern us, and the objects 
we habitually pursue. There is the ansv/er al- 
ready written, in the most legible characters. 
We indeed cannot read them unerringly with 
respect to each other, and, through the delusion 
of self-interest, we shall most probably mis- 
take in reading them respecting ourselves. But, 
my brethren, to God, the Judge, they are clearly 
revealed. He reads them with infallible cer- 
tainty. He cannot be deceived, and will not be 
mocked. He knows whether we prefer Christ 
or Barabbas. And it is certainly important for 
us that we should understand, so far as we can, 
what is our true condition in this respect. Let 
us, then, examine the subject more in detail, and 
in its personal application to ourselves. 

1. We reject Christ, and prefer Barabbas, when 
we love the world and the things of it more 



NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 241 

than we love God and the things of the soul. 
This was the great sin of the Jews who con- 
demned Jesus to the cross. Their minds were 
fixed on the honors and enjoyments of a tem- 
poral kingdom. They looked for power, glory, 
and pleasure here. They cared not for a teach- 
er of righteousness, nor for the righteousness 
which he taught. They cared not for a spirit- 
ual kingdom, nor for spiritual joys. They felt 
that this world and the things of it must be 
theirs. And he who would not give them this, 
though he offered them everlasting life and un- 
ending bliss, was fit only for the cross. But 
since their day, and among the followers of him 
whom they crucified, the attempt has even been 
made to reconcile these two objects of desire. 
Christians, convinced of the divine authority of 
Jesus, have been unwilling to forfeit the high 
hopes which he has set before them with respect 
to the future life, but at the same time have 
been backward to give up the pursuit of earthly 
good to the extent required by a supreme devo- 
tion to their spiritual interests. And wherever 
these feelings exist together, it is easy to see 
which will finally prevail. The world is ever 
present with us. Its objects assail our senses. 
Its pleasures excite our passions. It is ever 
pressing us with its temptations, and urging us 
16 



242 NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 



to indulgence. The objects of the spiritual 
world seem to be more distant. They are not 
visible and palpable like those of this world. 
They can be more easily kept out of the mind. 
And therefore the mind that does not habitually 
and devotedly meditate on them, and strengthen 
its sense of them by thought and reflection, 
loses the influence they would otherwise exert, 
and becomes sensual and earthly ; minding earth- 
ly things, and having its aff'ections on things be- 
low. And though there may still be some con- 
viction of a spiritual life, it is too weak and 
indistinct to excite to any vigorous action. Now 
when this is the case, the choice is made be- 
tween Christ and Barabbas. The Lord of life 
is rejected, and the robber has taken his place. 
How many of us, my friends, may be in this 
case, almost without being aware of it. We 
think well of religion and of its institutions. We 
acknowledge the Bible to be the word of God, 
and Jesus to be his messenger for our salvation. 
We hold him to be the Saviour of souls, the 
way of life, the guide to immortality. But how 
is this knowledge applied ? What proof of our 
sense of its reality is given by our lives? What 
principles govern us in our daily conduct, — the 
principles of the gospel, or of the world ? To 
whose service do we devote the most of our 



NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 



243 



time and attention, — to our earthly interests, 
or to our soul's purification ? But whenever 
these lesser objects are pursued at the expense 
of the greater, and to the degree that the pur- 
poses of this earthly life are allowed to interfere 
with and suppress the purposes of the spiritual 
life, Christ is virtually rejected. His kingdom 
and his righteousness have not the first place in 
our hearts. He is deposed from his rightful au- 
thority, and that which should be our servant 
has become our master. We have made our 
choice. We have joined in the popular cry, 
''Not this man, but Barabbas." 

2. We choose Barabbas rather than Jesus, 
when we allow our prejudices to prevent our 
hearty reception of the religion of Christ. The 
great sin of the Jewish multitude in their rejec- 
tion of Christ was a siu of prejudice. They, 
no more than their governor, could find any 
fault in him. His fame had extended through- 
out the nation, and it was ever a report of mercy, 
benevolence, and love. No stain had ever been 
affixed on his spotless character. No words of 
resentment had ever been heard to fall from his 
lips, even amid the provocations by which he 
was continually beset. No one of that multi- 
tude, so eager for his condemnation, could testi- 
fy against him even the appearance of evil. 



244 NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 



What, then, had he done to arouse these feelings 
of enmity and resentment which could be paci- 
fied only by his death ? He had done nothing 
to produce such an effect. His whole life was 
fitted to awaken in the public mind sentiments 
of admiration, gratitude, and confidence. We 
must look, then, for the cause of their conduct, 
not to him, but to them. They held expecta- 
tions respecting him, which, although he op- 
posed and refuted them, they continued to cher- 
ish. They held prejudices, which, although he 
showed them to be unfounded, they continued 
to retain. And when the question of his ac- 
knowledgment or his rejection came up for final 
decision, prejudice was triumphant, and he was 
cast out. 

And the same bad feeling still continues to 
prevail in opposition to his claims. Our preju- 
dices are not, of course, against him personally, 
but against his religion. We allow our preju- 
dices and our passions to prevent us from receiv- 
ing his instructions into our hearts, so as to 
make them the guide of our lives. We adopt 
unworthy views of his religion, and do not take 
pains to inform ourselves correctly of its pur- 
poses. Its purposes, we are apt to think, inter- 
fere with the enjoyment of life, and therefore 
we will not examine its claims. We do not feel 



NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 



245 



the necessity of subjecting ourselves to the strict- 
ness of its requisitions-, and therefore we inquire 
neither into their reasonableness nor their au- 
thority. Thus do we reject him whose instruc- 
tions should be our guide, and whose example 
our model. Thus, in Christian lands, and sur- 
rounded by Christian institutions, do they who 
are accounted his followers disown their Lord 
and Master. The cry of prejudice now, as of 
old, is, "Not this man, but Barabbas." 

Once more. We choose Barabbas rather than 
Jesus, when we indulge our passions and bad 
feelings in opposition to what we know to be 
the commands of the gospel. How common 
among us is indulgence of feelings of resent- 
ment and enmity against those who we think 
have injured us. There are those who would 
rather humble an enemy than make him cease 
to be one ; the ill-natured, whose words are in- 
tended to hurt and not to heal, the vindictive, 
overlooking every thing in the way to their re- 
venge. What do their hearts call out for other- 
wise or less than what was demanded by the 
Jewish populace, "Not this man, but Barabbas " ? 
Whenever we allow these and similar feelings 
to govern us, whenever reason is subjected to 
passion, then is Christ dethroned from his right- 
ful authority. The forbearance and charity 



246 NOT THIS MANj BUT BARABBAS. 



which he taught and exemplified are spumed 
away in our madness. The authority of his 
gospel is disavowed and rejected. Our excited 
temper will not be held in by its restraints. 

And so, too, is the indulgence of envy, mal- 
ice, uncharitableness, and the like, a virtual re- 
jection of Christ. They expel him from the 
heart where he would reign, and place there the 
robber and murderer in his stead. These evil 
passions have been murderers from the beginning. 
Their influence leads only to rob and to de- 
stroy. They do not and cannot accord with the 
gentleness, mercy, and love which breathes ever 
from the Christian temper. No ; we are not 
Christ's disciples when we give way to such 
feelings and propensities. We remove ourselves 
from his gracious influences. The language of 
our hearts for the time is, "Not this man, but 
Barabbas.'' 

Let us cease, then, to wonder that the Jews 
rejected Christ, when he is so coldly rejected by 
ourselves. Strange as that fact appears at first 
view, it is no more strange than our own person- 
al experience. It is acted over again here every 
day. Ah ! my friends, the guilt of this dreadful 
rejection cleaves to us more frequently and more 
closely than we are willing to allow, even to 
our own hearts. For if it is not so, why is it 



NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 247 

that there are so few visible signs of deep reli- 
gious interest among us ? Why is it that so 
few are willing to profess themselves disciples 
of Christ ? Why is it that the cause of Christ 
is languishing in our hands ? These surely are 
facts which no one will deny. But would they 
exist if Christ was received in his proper charac- 
ter, and for the purposes which he came to ac- 
complish ? No. Were this the case with us, 
how changed would be our state. Then should 
we present no points of resemblance to the mul- 
titude who rejected the Lord of glory ; but the 
cry of our hearts and of our lips would be that 
of the subdued and conscience-stricken Saul, — 
Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ? " O, 
that we might hear that cry bursting forth from 
many hearts to which Christ had been revealed 
as the power and the wisdom of God unto salva- 
tion, and in which was felt a deep conviction 
of the importance and the necessity of an inter- 
est in the redemption oifered by him ! And 
why shall it not be so, my friends, — why will 
you not arouse yourselves at once to the great 
purpose of life, and take an eager and effectual 
hold of the hope set before you in the gospel ? 
What can the world give you, or do for you, 
that you should choose it in preference to him 
who offers an everlasting and all-sufficient por- 



248 NOT TfilS MAN, BUT BARABBAS. 

tion for your souls. I pray you to think of this 
subject in its interesting and infinite relations to 
yourselves. I would earnestly and affectionate- 
ly commend it to your private meditations, and 
I pray God that the result of your medita- 
tions may be that living and abiding faith in 
him, and that strict conformity of the life to his 
commands, which shall seal you as his true disci- 
ples, and prepare you for the heaven he has 
promised. 



SERMON XIII. 



THANKSGIVING. 

OFFER UNTO GOD THANKSGIVING, AND FAY THY VOWS UNTO THE 
MOST HIGH, AND CALL UPON ME IN THE DAY OF TROUBLE ; I 
WILL DELIVER THEE, AND THOU SHALT GLORIFY ME. — Psalm 

1. 14, 15. 

The spirit of this festival is a spirit of thanks- 
giving, of gratitude, of cheerful happiness, and 
manifest joy. It is a day in which the ills of 
life, if not forgotten, should be thrown into the 
background, and the goodness of God, and our 
manifold blessings and enjoyments, should be 
the prominent subjects of thought and medita- 
tion. And it is well that there is one occasion 
expressly set apart and sanctified to this end. 
Life, we know, is crowded with cares ; troubles 
hang over every step ; misfortune and disap- 
pointment enter largely into the general lot. 
How many are cast down by this state of things, 



250 THANKSGIVING. 

— dejected and desponding because their way is 
hedged up with obstacles, and hope never sheds 
its glad radiance on their path. But even to 
such, life is not all sorrow ; its course is not all 
darkness. The clouds do sometimes break away, 
revealing the clear blue heavens ; and then the 
cheering sunlight falls brightly through, and is 
no less exhilarating because it may again, and 
soon, be shut from their view by intercepting 
clouds or shadows. 

But this is far from a true picture of human life 
in the aggregate. Few indeed, very few, com- 
paratively, are the cases in which comforts, and 
joys, and blessings do not make up the larger 
part of existence. Nay, it may not be too much 
to say, that there is hardly an individual, who, 
under any circumstances of his condition, has 
not much more reason to rejoice than to mourn. 
His blessings at any time will far exceed his af- 
flictions. For the afflictions of life are but a 
diminution of its blessings, and how very much 
may these be diminished, and yet enough be 
left for the warmest gratitude and praise. 

And whoever will look abroad over society at 
large, and see how many are the sources of en- 
joyment which a kind Creator has opened for his 
children, and how much enjoyment is actually 
realized by the human family, must be convinced 



THANKSGIVING. 



^1 



that thanksgiving is always an appropriate duty. 
Yes, and even the troubles and cares which, as 
I have said, enter so largely into human condi- 
tion, may also, in the effects they produce, afford 
reasons for gratitude and joy. It is by them 
that the powers of our nature are developed and 
strengthened. They bring into exercise those 
energies on which our true welfare so much 
depends. They prepare us to meet future tri- 
als with increased fortitude, and to combat suc- 
cessfully circumstances of discouragement and 
perplexity, which, but for our past experience, 
might have caused us to despair. And not only 
this, — when do we feel so happy as when we 
are victorious over disheartening events or contin- 
gencies, — when, through the energy which the 
occasion has called into exercise, we have made 
that contribute to our success which at first 
threatened only disaster and ruin ! O, how 
many there are, who, if they viewed life aright, 
would thank God for the trials which he has 
called them to endure, and without which they 
would never have known the greatness and the 
value of the powers with which he has adorned 
and ennobled their nature. Yes, it is these very 
calamities of life that bring out the great, the 
noble, the godlike, in man. What makes a man 
ignoble, and mean, and degraded is, that he has 



252 



THANKSGIVING. 



basely yielded to the pressure of obstacles which 
God meant that he should conquer, and by that 
victory raise himself to his appointed place and 
station. What else is it that makes the differ- 
ence in men, but that one yields, where another 
conquers ? We speak of the fortunate and the 
unfortunate, as though the events of Ufe were 
but chance-occurrences, which are favorable or 
unfavorable according as a man happens to be 
placed, when in truth their character is deter- 
mined solely by the use that is made of them. 
Strictly speaking, he only is the unfortunate 
man, who, through distrust and apprehension, — ; 
distrust in his own God-given powers, and a 
fearful apprehension of failure in the result, — 
is faithless to himself, and weakly yields to the 
force of discouraging events ; while the fortu- 
nate man is he who makes events yield to him. 
Two men are placed in early life in a similar con- 
dition, and with equal prospects of success. But 
troubles come to them, as to all others, and while 
one is cast down and overcome by them in the 
outset, and his future course is weakness and 
failure, the other meets them like a man, and 
maintains the superiority which is his preroga- 
tive, and his future course is crowned with suc- 
cess. Now how common it is to say of the for- 
mer, He is a sadly unfortunate being, nothing 



THANKSGIVING. 



253 



seems to go well with him ! and of the latter, 
Ah ! he is one of fortune's favorites, and every 
thing prospers that he engages in ! And this is 
all true, but not in the sense in which these ob- 
servations are usually understood. The one is 
fortunate, and the other unfortunate, not because 
of their outward circumstances, but because of 
the different use they make of those circum- 
stances. Unfavorable contingencies are met by 
the one with the requisite energy and effort, and 
he conquers. By the other they are not met at 
all, — he shrinks from the trial, and they con- 
quer him. Whatever, then, be the means or oc- 
casion of bringing out and strengthening by 
exercise the superior capacities of our nature, 
making us realize their existence, and trust their 
power, though we call it calamity, misfortune, 
disappointment, bereavement, and though in it- 
self it be a painful and severe trial, these effects 
which it has produced deserve our sincere and 
grateful acknowledgments. We have learnt by 
it a lesson, than which few in this life can be 
more profitable. 

The spirit of these remarks is even more ap- 
plicable to the religious life, the life of Christian 
confidence and Christian hope. Success here 
also depends on the use we make of the circum- 
stances and events under whose influence we are 



254 THANKSGIVING. 

/ 

placed by the sovereign Disposer of events. And 
it is by those same afflictions, and troubles, and 
cares of which I have spoken, that God intends 
to strengthen and mature our trust in him, and 
our dependence upon him, and to increase in us 
that moral fortitude which will enable us to con- 
tinue faithful unto the end. To this fact it is, 
that the Psalmist refers in my text, — " Call upon 
me in the day of trouble ; I will deliver thee, 
and thou shalt glorify me." The religious man 
knows that all the circumstances of his earthly 
life are of a disciplinary character, intended to 
train him up for an eternal home in heaven. It 
is his aim to use them for this end, and he 
trusts in God for help and strength. And when, 
through their influence, his faith in God is con- 
firmed, and his piety increased, and he is made 
to understand more clearly, and to apply himself 
more faithfully, to the great purposes of his be- 
ing, and is thus becoming better qualified for, as 
he draws nearer to, the spiritual world, he can- 
not help thanking God for the means which 
have produced this effect, and but for which the 
Christian hope might never have gladdened his 
heart. Thus does he glorify God by his thanks- 
givings and by his obedience. 

I have extended these remarks much farther 
than I intended, though they are strictly appro- 



THANKSGIVING. 



255 



priate to this occasion, as my purpose is to show 
that even the troubles and sorrows of life may 
be causes of thanksgiving, and that they will be 
so, when rightly miderstood and used. And if 
so, how much more the blessings of life, which 
far outnumber and outmeasure its troubles. 

But to leave now the general view and come 
back to individuals, who of us, my brethren, 
has ever known the time when he had not am- 
ple cause to lift up his heart in thanksgiving to 
God for the blessings he was then enjoying ? 
And if at no past time of our lives could we say 
this, so neither can we say it now. We are, 
each of us, in the present enjoyment of blessings 
and privileges which justly and loudly call upon 
us this day to offer unto God thanksgiving, and 
pay our grateful vows to the Most High. The 
occasion on which we have met is then to us no 
unmeaning formality. We should rejoice to im- 
prove and apply it as its purpose indicates. And 
as we review the mercies and favors, temporal 
and spiritual, which have been conferred on us 
individually through the past year, and are yet 
continued by the abounding mercy of God, I 
trust we may all feel that thanksgiving is not 
only an appropriate, but also a delightful duty. 

But though as individuals we have abundant 
cause to express our gratitude for personal and 



256 



THANKSGIVING. 



peculiar favors to the great Giver and Sustainer 
of life and all life's blessings ; yet the particular 
object of this festival is to commemorate those 
acts of the divine goodness which are of a more 
public character, — those blessings which we 
have enjoyed as a community, and for which 
we may render our united thanksgiving and 
praise. It is therefore to some of our blessings 
of this description that I would now briefly call 
your attention, while at the same time I would 
most earnestly exhort you by no means to over- 
look the causes of thanksgiving which exist in 
your individual relations and conditions. 

The first topic which in this connection I 
would present to your consideration is, the great 
degree of health that has prevailed among us 
the past year. Health is a blessing which, be- 
cause of its commonness, we are too prone to 
undervalue. Yet of all temporal blessings it is 
unquestionably the greatest ; since the want of 
it detracts essentially from all others. It far ex- 
ceeds riches, authority, and honor, which by the 
loss of this lose almost all their value. When 
this is wanting, neither the comforts of home, 
nor the pleasures of society, nor the beauties of 
nature, can be adequately enjoyed. We lose our 
interest even in self-improvement and usefulhess 
to others. But I need not attempt to express 



THANKSGIVING. 



257 



the value of health. The experience of every 
one must testify to this truth, and that experi- 
ence is also the best teacher how becoming and 
reasonable is the return of gratitude to its kind 
Preserver. 

It is true, that, during the past year, our fears 
have not been alarmed, as they sometimes are, 
by the prevalence in other places of disease, 
whose destructive visitation might also be ex- 
tended to us. No pestilence has threatened to in- 
vade our borders, but all around us, and through 
the whole of this portion of our land, the bless- 
ing of general health has been constantly en- 
joyed. Yet have we any the less reason for 
gratitude to God on this account ? Is it not just 
as true that the health of our community is the 
effect of his providential care ? On the suppo- 
sition that we were preserved from a pestilence 
which had ravaged other parts of our land, we 
should undoubtedly feel more sensible of the 
greatness of the blessing, and our thankful ac- 
knowledgments be rendered with more fervor of 
feeling. But would the blessing be any greater 
in itself? And can we feel our dependence on 
God, and his claims to our gratitude, only when 
these facts are forced upon us by deliverance 
from probable and pressing danger ? 

Surely, my brethren, we have none the less 
17 



258 



THANKSGIVING. 



reason to be grateful to God, than if he had de- 
livered us from what we believed to be an ap- 
proaching and deadly plague. Less reason, did 
I say ? Indeed, the very fact that no such ca- 
lamity has been apprehended adds largely to the 
call for gratitude. Not only ourselves, but so 
many others, have experienced his preserving 
mercy, and in their behalf, as well as our own, 
should the voice of thanksgiving be raised. And 
while we praise him with our lips, let us present 
our bodies, which he has sustained in life and 
health, a hving sacrifice, holy and acceptable 
unto God, which is our reasonable service. His 
goodness demands this return. He has gracious- 
ly preserved us from the pestilence that walketh 
in darkness, and from the sickness that wasteth 
at noonday. He has kept our eyes from tears, 
and our feet from falling, and his visitation hath 
been our support. What more reasonable, then, 
than that we should glorify him with our bodies 
and our spirits, which are his. Bless the Lord, 
O our souls, and forget not all his benefits, who 
healeth all our diseases, who redeemeth our life 
from destruction, and crowneth us with loving 
kindness and tender mercies. 

Another topic, which is well fitted to excite 
our gratitude on this occasion, is the plenty that 
has crowned the year. I do not, of course, 



THANKSGIVING. 



259 



mean that the past year has been one of plenty 
compared with many others we have known. 
But, compared with the prospect which at one 
time presented itself, we have now abundant 
cause to rejoice before God that the earth hath 
yielded her increase, and that God hath thus 
blessed us. 

You mnst all remember the time to which I 
refer, when the heaven over ns was as brass, 
and the earth under us as iron, and the rain of 
the land powder and dust ; and we, in our sad 
apprehensions for the result of the drought, pre- 
sented ourselves here before God^ in humility 
and prayer, and besought him that in his mercy 
he would turn away from us the dreaded ca- 
lamity. And now that the harvest-season is 
passed, and we have gathered in its products, 
though the whole amount be not large in itself, 
yet have we not enough for our necessities, if 
not for our desires, and enough therefore to be 
thankful for ? Yes, and remembering what were 
our fears, have we not especial reason to bless 
God for his abounding mercy ? Seldom has 
even the oldest among us known a more pleas- 
ant and more favorable autumn than that which 
has just closed. The latter rains have been 
given in sufficient abundance. The genial in- 
fluences of the sun have been long continued. 



260 



THANKSGIVING. 



The withering cold and the blighting frost have 
been kept away. The labor of the husband- 
man has not failed. His prayer to God has 
not been in vain. Cold, msensibly cold, must 
that heart be, which, under these circumstances, 
does not swell with fervent gratitude to Him 
whose ear is ever open to the cry of his children, 
and whose loving kindness never faileth. And 
let us remember, in this connection, that though 
the hand of God is more apparent to us in the 
rain that falls on our fields, in answer to our 
prayers, and revives the vegetation that was 
withering and blackening under the fervors of 
the summer's sun, the same divine hand is no 
less active in common and unnoticed operations, 
and that in these, no less than in that, it should 
be acknowledged and adored. 

Bat I must leave this topic, though much more 
might be fitly said, and also pass wholly by other 
and appropriate topics, to present to you what is 
emphatically the great subject for thanksgiving 
at the present time. You will all understand 
me to refer to the Temperance Reformation, 
that great moral movement, which, to use the 
appropriate language of our chief magistrate, 
^' has already rescued thousands in our land from 
the degradation and misery of intemperance, and 
carried joy to the hearts, and happiness to the 



THANKSGIVING. 



261 



homes, of the disconsolate and the despairing." 
Yes, my brethren, this is a subject on which we 
should account it a high privilege to feel and 
express our thanks. I must believe that every 
true friend of humanity must feel it to be a privi- 
lege even to live in an age which has witnessed 
so unexampled and so glorious a reformation. 
It deserves to be regarded, as in truth it is, as 
the distinctive characteristic of the age ; that 
which will give it a name to live in after ages, 
and make it stand out in illustrious and preemi- 
nent moral superiority. 

It is not to be supposed that so remarkable an 
event was in itself a sudden or unaccountable 
thing, — though, if regarded merely as an effect, 
it was indeed sudden, almost electric. But the 
producing causes had been long at work. Many 
years have passed since the promotion of tem- 
perance has been a distinct and prominent de- 
partment of moral effort. And from the begin- 
ning, the cause has, with some apparent relapses, 
advanced steadily onward. Through the labors 
of its friends, it had made itself felt in the pub- 
lic mind. Its principles had been constantly be- 
coming more intelligible and definite, and its 
operations more efficient. The changes it had 
caused in the manners and habits of society 
were as wonderful as they were beneficial. Its 



262 



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good results were becoming more and more ap- 
parent, and its influence largely increasing in 
efficiency. Such was the actual state of things 
when this new and last movement in its behalf 
commenced. And here are the true causes of 
that noble and triumphant movement. It is a 
result which had not been anticipated, indeed. 
For who, I might say, would have dared to ex- 
pect so stupendous and glorious a result. But it 
has come, and now who can fail to see the pros- 
pering hand of God in the cause of which it is 
a part. 

As has been said with truth, for a quarter of a 
century various and persevering measures had 
been pursued, until the community was pene- 
trated throughout with information and interest 
on the subject. And now, at last, as if the har- 
vest of that long seedtime and laborious hus- 
bandry, there has arisen one of the most aston- 
ishing movements of which history gives ac- 
count, — so remarkable in its origin, so rapid in 
its extension, so triumphant in its success, that 
we cannot refuse to acknowledge in it the special 
intervention of Providence, if Providence ever 
acts in the affairs of men. Think of the revolu- 
tion which has taken place in Ireland ; which 
promises to convert that lost people into a tem- 
perate nation. What could have been deemed 



THANKSGIVING. 



263 



more improbable than that ? And yet, behold, a 
greater wonder is here ! An unprecedented ef- 
fort at self-reform has burst forth from the very- 
bosoms of the wretched victims of this evil, — 
the abandoned, the despaired of, the forsaken, — 
for whom men had no hope, and fancied that 
God had no mercy ; — those lost ones them- 
selves, from the depths of their own desperate 
debasement, have called up their manliness, and 
stood forth emancipated, disenthralled, — the 
preachers of that temperance they had so long 
despised. It was like a resurrection from the 
grave. It was as if the tomb had spoken. No 
wonder that attention was arrested. No wonder 
that the voice of hope echoed over the land, and 
a thrill of admiration and gratitude passed from 
city to city, and from border to border. And 
now, within less than twelve short months, 
not a few only, — not a few hundreds, — but 
thousands and thousands, of helpless creatures 
have been redeemed ; from outcasts have be- 
come blessings, from burdens are helpers, from 
the shame have come to be the joy of heart- 
broken friends. This is the Lord's doing, and it 
is marvellous in our eyes ! It is going on ; and 
say what we may — what need not be denied 
— of some doubtful procedures, of some unwise 
speeches, of some injudicious measures, of some 



264 



THANKSGIVING. 



men apparently rescued who have sunk back, 
still there remains ample room to believe the re- 
form so far complete, that the next generation 
will know almost nothing of the curse that bur- 
dened the past. 

Said I not truly, then, my brethren, that this 
is the great subject for thanksgiving at the pres- 
ent time ? This alone presents ample cause, not 
only for a State's Thanksgiving, but for -a Na- 
tion's Jubilee. And in this general rejoicing, 
who would refuse to participate ? Surely not 
we, my friends ; for one of the streams from this 
fountain of holy and joyous reform flows quietly 
and beneficently through our own village. Here, 
among ourselves, are living proofs of its power 
to heal, to purify, and to bless. Our own eyes 
can see the wonders it has wrought, and our 
hearts are called into active sympathy with its 
redeemed subjects in our very midst. O, may 
this rich blessing penetrate our hearts with that 
fervent gratitude to God which is so justly his 
due ! And may we manifest our gratitude by 
increasing energy and zeal in every right effort 
to encourage and sustain the great cause of 
moral reform ; not only in this branch of it, but 
in all its consistent operations, and for all its jus- 
tifiable ends. 

There are many other topics which I should 



THANKSGIVING. 



265 



be glad to bring to your notice on this occa- 
sion, and which present strong claims for con- 
sideration. The theme appropriate to this day- 
is, indeed, boundless. Who can nujnber the 
causes which justly call on dependent man to 
bow in thanksgiving before his God, the giver 
of every good and perfect gift ? But I must 
leave unnoticed any additional topics. Those 
that I have presented appear to me most deserv- 
ing our thought and reflection at the present 
time ; and if there were no others, they alone 
are more than enough to cause every voice to 
break forth in praise, and every he£u:t to overflow 
with grateful emotion. 

And let us remember, my brethren, that if such 
is their eff'ect on us, that does not answer their 
whole purpose, nor comply fully with the design 
of this occasion. The blessings we receive are 
not merely favors to feel thankful for, but also 
means to be improved. They are talents put 
into our hands to be employed in our Master's 
service. To this end let us then faithfully de- 
vote them, under a due sense of the accounta- 
bility they bring with them, and bearing con- 
stantly in mind, that in the great and final result 
our rejoicing must spring from the single fact, 
not that we received them, but that we used 
them aright, — that in our hands they were 



266 



THANKSGIVING. 



means of greater fidelity to the high spiritual 
purposes of our being, as well as of deeper trust 
in the goodness and care of the kind Giver of 
them all. 

" To him our lives, our all, we owe, 
Our peace, and sweetest joys below, 

And brightest hopes above ; 
Then let our lives, and all that 's ours, 
Our souls, and all our active powers, 
Be sacred to his love." 



SERMON XIV. 



GOD IS LOVE. 

GOD IS LOVE. — 1 John iv. 16. 

Nothing is more easy than to prove to the 
understanding the truth here announced. If we 
direct our attention to the works of nature and 
the ways of Providence, we see not only the 
most satisfactory proofs of a Creator and Sus- 
tainer, whose wisdom and power are proportion- 
ate to the magnitude and skill of the wonders 
exhibited ; but we see, further, that marks of 
benevolence are as clearly manifested. And, 
therefore, the same investigation which con- 
vinces us of the infinite power and wisdom of 
God convinces us also of his infinite goodness. 

But it is a very different thing to acknowledge 
the goodness of God as a truth of the under- 
standing, and to feel it as a sentiment of the 



268 



GOD IS LOVE. 



heart. Few, indeed, perhaps no one, would de- 
ny the truth that God is love, but how rare is it 
to find one who has attained a felt experience of 
this sentiment, so that it purifies and sanctifies 
the affections, while it raises them up to the 
Heavenly Father in the confidence of a perfect 
trust. This is, in truth, a high degree of re- 
ligious character, if it be not, rather, the highest 
which can be reached by us. And the great 
reason why so few reach it is because they do 
not open their hearts to the evidences of its truth 
which are addressed to their spiritual nature. 
Their minds wander among the glorious works 
of God, so bountifully scattered in their beauty 
and sublimity everywhere where the eye can 
reach, or the reason penetrate. And while be- 
nevolence beams forth with every manifestation 
of power and wisdom, they cannot clos© their 
conviction to the truth that God is love. But 
amid this examination of nature's works, and the 
care of Providence so universally displayed, there 
are also evils presented which seem to detract 
from the full force of this conviction, and mingle 
with it somewhat of doubt and distrust. Who 
does not see about him, and perhaps in his own 
experience, many exceptions to the beneficent 
order of things ; many apparent departures from 
it ? The blessings of Providence do not explain 



GOD IS LOVE. 



269 



away the evils that occur in its allotments, though 
they may outnumber and outmeasure them. 
Who can shut his eyes against the spectacle of 
privations, sorrows, sins, and suffering in ways 
innumerable ? And who, seeing these objections, 
with all the explanations he can gather from the 
general course of Providence, would not still feel 
that it is only in a limited and qualified sense 
that he is enabled to say that God is love ? He 
might say there is love manifested, yet not love 
only, or not perfectly, not fully. It must be 
owned that the beneficence displayed in the 
natural world, nor the mere good things of this 
life, do not establish the complete truth of my 
text. The exceptions, the objections, forbid it. 
The good things of life do not explain away 
these. We want some other principle by which 
to explain them, so that we may see and feel 
that these very evils are good things, appointed in 
love, consistent with love, and helping to illus- 
trate the truth that God is love." 

Now I say that to us. Christians, the principle 
which fully and satisfactorily explains the diffi- 
culty is supplied. It is supplied in the religion 
which God sent by his Son, Jesus Christ. This 
is the only sufficient interpreter of the evils of 
life, which at first view seem to militate against 
the truth that God is love. And it is not sur- 



270 



GOD IS LOVE. 



prising, that both philosophy and religion, before 
Christ, found great difficulty in accounting for 
these evils so as to make them consistent with 
divine benevolence. Those systems were but 
cold abstractions of the intellect, which "played 
around the head, but did not reach the heart" ; 
and though by them the manifestations of divine 
power, and wisdom, and. goodness, might be 
made equally apparent through creation, yet in- 
tellect alone could not bring into perfect harmony 
with these manifestations the evils and seeming 
inconsistencies which presented themselves to 
their view. It was reserved for Christianity to 
afford the key by which to unlock this mystery, 
the principle by which these apparent inconsis- 
tencies should be perfectly and beautifully har- 
monized. Christianity is, indeed, like other sys- 
tems of religion and philosophy, though to a 
higher degree, addressed to the intellect. It re- 
quires that the reason and understanding, which 
are among the highest and noblest of God's gifts 
to man, should be strongly and clearly engaged 
in the study of its truths. But this also, and 
especially, is a religion of the affections. It is 
there that it would build up its throne, and estab- 
lish its authority. It is the heart which it seeks 
to purify and consecrate, and it is only the heart 
so purified and consecrated that can feel in its 



GOD IS LOVE. 



271 



full power and beauty the truth that God is love. 
And therefore, I repeat, that the reason why this 
truth is so rarely felt in its fulness is because the 
power of Christianity is not received into the 
affections, and made through them the interpret- 
er of the evils which all must see and confess. 

In order, then, to a full and perfect appreciation 
of this truth, I would direct your attention pri- 
marily and especially to the religion of Jesus, 
as unfolded in his precepts and his life. For 
here are proofs of this truth too clear to be mis- 
understood, and too imposing and affecting not 
to subdue all opposition. And I have no doubt, 
that whenever these proofs can be clearly ex- 
hibited, so as to enlist, as they are designed to 
do, the heart equally with the understanding, they 
will always produce a conviction of this truth, 
which all the evils of life, so far from contro- 
verting, will only tend to fix and strengthen. 

The character of the Deity is so revealed in 
the teachings and life of Christ, as it is not by 
any other manifestation. Without the light thus 
afforded, we could not soar up to the moral 
glories which we are now able to understand and 
appreciate. God hath come near to us by his 
Son and Messanger, and the doubts of his perfect 
love, which might distress our minds when con- 
templating the evils of life, may now all be dis- 
pelled. The light of divine love now shines 



272 



GOD IS LOVE. 



upon onr hearts with unclouded brightness. It 
shines upon us not merely through the joys 
which make life a blessing, but it shines equally 
through the evils and troubles which sometimes 
cast deep shadows over those joys. It shows us 
that these evils, though sent by his appointment, 
do not oppose the perfect benevolence of God's 
character, for they are sent as the means of hap- 
piness, and may be made the very materials of 
the purest joy. And how does Christianity 
show this ? 

In answering this question, I will not now 
dwell on the doctrines, which, on this point, are 
so fully recorded ; though I might speak of 
those which tell us of that constant providence 
which upholds all life, and supplies all wants, 
and which, while it sustains and controls the 
universe, suffers not the tiny sparrow to die un- 
cared for, nor a hair to fall unnoticed from a hu- 
man head. I might also speak of those doctrines 
which unfold the true character of the present 
life f, as the infancy of our being, the school of 
discipline and trial to the immortal spirit, where 
the constitution of things is so arranged, in adap- 
tation to the constitution of human nature, that 
the purest and most permanent happiness may be 
derived from overcoming evil, and resisting temp- 
tation, and practising virtue. From this I might 
lead your minds farther, to the doctrines which 



GOD IS LOVE. 



273 



relate to that brighter and purer world, where all 
the evils of this shall be rectified ; where the 
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are 
at rest ; where sorrow shall be turned into un- 
failing bliss, and faithful duty reap an everlast- 
ing reward. And I might, finally, direct your 
contemplation to that preeminent manifestation 
of the love of God in sending his beloved Son, 
not to condemn, but to save, the world. 

From each and all of these doctrines, which 
are peculiar to Christianity, I might draw strong 
and convincing arguments to prove the truth that 
God is love. But 1 am willing to pass by all 
these, notwithstanding their great importance 
and direct bearing on the case before us, and to 
bring the point solely to the decision of facts. 
It is a point which, I believe, may be determin- 
ed conclusively by a reference to facts ; and 
therefore I affirm, that so far as the religion of 
Christ is felt in its purity and power in any heart, 
it makes those that suffer under life's evils cling 
more devotedly to the truth that God is love. 
I am not speaking poetically, or speculatively, 
but 1 utter the words of truth and soberness, 
when I say that the very sufferings and sorrows 
which so constantly make a part of human con- 
dition are, under the guidance of Christianity, 
and, I would add, under that guidance only, the 
18 



274 



GOD IS LOVE. 



means of deepening in the heart of the sufferer, 
and in the very hour of his suffering, the con- 
viction that God is love. 

Look at that brightest and purest example of 
virtue and holiness which the world ever saw, 
the man Christ Jesus. To him the character of 
God was revealed as to no other mind. He was 
in the bosom of the Father, and he stood among 
men as the manifested presence of Divinity, — 
''God manifest in the flesh." Through him 
comes the true knowledge of God to us. From 
him may we learn what God is, as we learn by 
no other medium. And from him, therefore, 
may we learn the truth that God is love. And 
we learn it; too, not from the brightness of pros- 
perity, the joy of success ; not from those happy 
circumstances which breathe an atmosphere of 
gladness around the path of life, and from which 
this truth would appear to be a natural or inevi- 
table deduction ; but we see it shining out from 
the depths of suffering and anguish. Was not Je- 
sus justly represented as a man of sorrow, and ac- 
quainted with grief? Did he not endure through 
the whole course of his ministry a constant bap- 
tism of sorrow, — despised and rejected by those 
whom he came to save, persecuted and reviled 
by those whom he would bless, and finishing a 
life of unrequited toil by the tortures of the cross, 
and the ignominy of a criminal execution ? 



GOD IS LOVE. 



275 



And what but his heart-belief that God is 
love sustained him in this pathway of bitterness 
and grief? How, in all his conflicts, trials, woes, 
did he go to that God and Father, and pour out 
his sorrows into that paternal bosom, secure of 
compassion, support, and relief. And was he not 
led to this by his perfect knowledge of the love 
of the Being whom he sought ? Thus was his 
whole life, though passed in the midst of afflic- 
tion, and trial, and persecution, a constant reve- 
lation of the truth, which by his teachings also 
he sought to confirm, that God is love. 

Go, now, into that chamber of sickness, and 
look at the pale and exhausted sufi"erer, to whom 
days of pain and nights of weariness are ap- 
pointed. The pleasant light of the sun is shut 
out. The fresh breath of heaven may not enter 
there. Incurable disease has settled dov/n on 
the springs of life, and the victim is wasting 
slowly away. The voice of friendship cannot 
call back health to that emaciated and weary 
frame. The kind offices of love cannot still the 
pains which send anguish through that panting 
bosom. In vain may human aid be invoked. 
No relief is hoped for but that which releases 
from all earthly sorrows. Yet there, to that bed 
of disease and sufl'ering, would I bid you go to 
learn the truth that God is love. It beams forth 
in the calm resignation which utters no murmur- 



276 



GOD IS LOVE. 



ing word. It shows itself in that unfaltering 
confidence with which the soul cleaves to its 
God. It shines out in that pure communion 
which the trusting spirit holds with the Father 
of spirits. I ask you not to account for this, but 
I ask, Is not such the fact ? Has it not fallen 
within the experience of almost all who hear me 
to have known some such instance, in which the 
severe suffering of long and helpless sickness has 
had the effect to rivet more and more strongly in 
the sufferer's heart the deep conviction that God 
is love, — a conviction which no sufferings could 
shake, but which was the rather held with a 
closer and firmer grasp amid the accumulation of 
pain and distress ? 

And so, too, is this sentiment felt and cherish- 
ed by the heart which bereavement has robbed 
of its loved ones, whose affections, like the broken 
strings of a sweet-toned instrument, are now 
shattered and unstrung. O, how do those af- 
fections mount upwards from earth, and fix them- 
selves with a pure and eager embrace on Him 
whose name is Love ! Earth may be a solitude, 
and the stricken mourner feel desolate and alone 
even amid the beaming beauties and bounties 
which may still be left. But, in the belief in a 
Heavenly Father, and in the consciousness of 
his presence and love, the solitude of earth is 
peopled with gladness and joy. The compan- 



GOD IS LOVE. 



277 



ionship of spirit is still unbroken, though its 
earthly relations are severed, and in the light of 
a joyous immortality, and in the consolations of 
a holy faith, is seen and felt the undoubted truth 
that God is love. 

Now it is not to be questioned that these are 
among the evils of life, which are apparent ob- 
jections to this great truth. Yet we see and 
know that by the holy power of Christianity 
they may be and are made the surest means of 
fixing this truth in the heart. Not amid the 
throngs of the gay, or the homes of the happy 
in this world, not where the sun of prosperity 
shines brightest, or where the laughter of mer- 
riment is the loudest, would I go to learn the 
truth that God is love. I ought, I know, to find 
it there, for I know that the hearts of the happy 
and the joyful should be lifted in gratitude to 
God, the giver of good, and the inspirer of joy. 
But I also know, that in the government of an 
infinitely perfect Being there can be no such 
thing as real evil, and therefore I would turn to 
those which are called evils, to see if they are 
not designed to teach the same truth, though by 
a different process, which ought to be learned 
from the blessings of life. And I again appeal 
to my hearers whether the fact is not as I have 
stated it, — that the evils of life, in the very 
hour of their endurance, are, under the guidance 



278 



GOD IS LOVE. 



of Christianity, teachers of the truth that God 
is love. 

But there is another class of evils, which seem 
still more strongly to oppose this truth. Man is 
allowed, in the providence of God, to sin, to de- 
file himself with iniquity, to resist, and in some 
measure to defeat, the designs of infinite wisdom 
and benevolence for his true welfare. Yet the 
difiiculty presented by this case is rather apparent 
than real. If it were the appointment of God 
that a course of sin cut ofi" the transgressor en- 
tirely from the divine mercy ; if, in other words, 
there were no such thing as repentance, and the 
promise of forgiveness to repentance, and a resto- 
ration to God's favor, then would this seeming 
objection be irreconcilable with the truth that 
God is love. But the representations of the 
Gospel on this point bring us to the opposite con- 
clusion. They teach us that God ever looks 
with compassion and pity on those who trans- 
gress his laws, and that he is constantly striving 
by his spirit and providence to bring them back 
to him in penitence and love. And, indeed, there 
is no case by which the truth of my text is made 
more clear and undeniable than in that of the 
repentant sinner. He is conscious that he has 
violated the wisest laws ; that he has slighted 
and despised his Maker and Benefactor, from 
whom alone he holds his gift of life, and by 



GOD IS LOVE. 



279 



whose providence all his blessings have been en- 
joyed. He feels his unworthiness and debase- 
ment, and is oppressed by the sense of guilt. 
But when, from the lowliness of his penitence, 
he looks upwards to the Being he has offended, 
he sees as it were a father's face bending over 
him in mercy ; he hears the voice of encourage- 
ment and hope ; he is received again to that favor 
which he feared he had forfeited, and with what 
a blessed experience of its truth does he exclaim, 
God, thou art love ! 

Thus do the evils of life, which are apparent 
objections to this truth, bear their united and 
strong testimony to its reality. And I have chosen 
this method of presenting it, because it seems to 
me to be the most convincing and striking. If 
the very difficulties which seem to oppose its 
acknowledgment tend to illustrate and confirm 
it, who can doubt it ? Yet might it be proved, 
as I have intimated, by a more direct process. 
It might be shown to beam forth in all the joys 
of life ; to irradiate, as by a sunbeam, all the 
gladsome scenes of our earthly pilgrimage, and 
to shine out in bright efiulgence over the path 
to immortality. But wherever and however it 
may so enter the heart as to mingle with and 
purify our affections, and elevate and sanctify 
our sympathy with all that is lovely and good, 
it will be clung to and cherished as the dearest 



280 



GOD IS LOVE. 



and most valued of all holy truths. It cannot, 
indeed, be understood and appreciated by the 
mind, where the power of Christianity is unheed- 
ed and unfelt. Over the troubled waters of the 
sinful heart the divine spirit must move, or they 
cannot be stilled to that calmness and clearness 
in which the image of the God of love may be 
purely reflected. Seek, then, brethren, that 
holy power of Christianity. Open your minds 
to the purifying and life-giving influences of 
God's spirit. Then shall the love of God be 
shed abroad in your hearts, and be for your sup- 
port and consolation in all the circumstances of 
life. You shall see it shine out in the light of 
the sun ; it shall be whispered to you in the balmy 
air ; it shall breathe out to you in the fragrance 
of the flower ; it shall be disclosed to you in all 
the discipline of life ; it shall be your blessed 
experience amid the deepening shadows of death, 
— God is love. Bereavement shall feel it, and 
lift up her tearful eyes to heaven in perfect trust. 
Joy shall know it, and send up a new and purer 
tribute of gratitude to the Giver of all good. 
Through time it shall be more and more unfold- 
ed in its beauty and richness, and the great hymn 
of the redeemed through eternity will be, God 
is love. 



THE END. 



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